The Nameless Child
by Shaddic
Summary: The Ponds are gone and the Doctor is in a very dark place. In his sorrow and loneliness he wishes he had never stolen the Tardis, wishes he had never gone on all those fantastic adventures and met all those wonderful companions. But when a stranger makes his wish come true, will the Doctor set things right, or allow himself to stay in this little bubble where no pain is felt?
1. Closed Hearts

The hum of the Tardis was the most relaxing sound in the entire universe. Or at least, it was to the Doctor. As he sat in his swing underneath the Tardis console working on some wires, the humming was sweeter to him than the song of a siren. And he had had plenty of experience with those.

He was trying, once again, to bring her to full capacity. Despite all the work he'd done over so many centuries, in all his time with her she had never been fully functional. It was as if she didn't want to be fixed, didn't want to be perfect. Not that he minded. To him she would always be perfect. Well, most of time anyway.

"Come on old girl, work with me here," he said through his teeth. She had been difficult lately. Resisting his attempts to repair her, even though she usually enjoyed it. Not responding when he asked her to do something. Changing and moving rooms without warning. He was used to that last one, but it had been happening a lot more lately, and it was starting to irk him. He knew why she was behaving this way, and he refused to give in. This battle of wills would last until one of them broke, and even though she usually won, he was determined to not back down this time.

"You can pout all you want, I'm not going back down there. The universe is doing just fine

without me, and I refuse to entangle myself in its affairs. We're not taking a trip just so you can stretch your legs. Er, I mean, oh you know what I mean."

The Tardis let out a loud roar, a sound the Doctor hadn't heard in a while. He felt the Tardis dematerializing, and he charged up the stairs to stop her. But just as he reached the console, the noise stopped, and the Tardis kicked him out. The door opened on its own and he was forced out, landing face-first in the snow. As he got back on his feet, practically melting the snow off his body with the intense heat of his anger, the door shut in his face. He pulled out his key and shoved it into the lock, but the door wouldn't budge.

"Oh, that's really mature, kicking me out into the snow because I hurt your feelings," he snarled at her. "Well, fine! I don't need you to get around, I've got two legs that work just fine. I'll just go entertain myself until you come crawling back to me like you always do!"

She ignored his rant, and he turned on his heel to find two children at his feet staring up at him wide-eyed.

"Mister, why are you yelling at a box?" one of them asked.

"Because the box and I aren't friends anymore!" he shouted, scaring away the children.

He stormed off, away from the only thing he had left to stand by him. He felt bad for yelling at her, for traumatizing the children, and for not taking her out more often. He had been living on that tiny little cloud for such a long time now, and she couldn't bear to sit still for very long, just like him. He was the one being unreasonable and he knew it, but he wasn't in the mood for apologizing.

He took a look at the environment he was in, it just now occurring to him that in her current mood the Tardis had probably dumped him somewhere very painful and deadly. But no, it looked like modern-day London. The night was dark and the stars were out, but there was no moon.

"Excuse me," he said to a couple of elderly women passing by on the street. "I hit my head and have terrible amnesia, could you tell me what year this is?"

"Oh you poor dear!" one of them exclaimed. "Amnesia, you say? Ellie, doesn't your husband have that, too?"

"That's anemia, Becky," said Ellie with a roll of her eyes. "Have you got your hearing aid in?"

Becky ignored her and latched herself onto the Doctor's arm. "I'm Becky. You come with us, handsome, we'll take care of your anesthesia."

The Doctor experienced a brief moment of panic before he said, "That's very kind of you, Becky, but I must go. I have a very important… um… meeting to go to. Yes, that's plausible."

"With who?" asked Ellie.

"The… Pope?" replied the Doctor. It was the only thing he could think to say. "Not so plausible…"

"How could you know that if you don't even know what year it is?" retorted Ellie as she put her hands on her hips.

"Very specific amnesia, it only affects the part of my brain that deals with passage of time."

"And apparently it affects the part of your brain that deals with fashion sense," said Ellie disapprovingly. "I'm sixty-eight years old and even I know that bow-ties are out of style. It's 2012, for heaven sakes!"

"Bow-ties are cool!" The Doctor was really starting to lose his patience.

"Don't you listen to her, Dearie. Real men where bow-ties," said Becky as she stroked his arm.

"Umm, thanks. But I really must go meet the Pope," he said as he tried to disentangle himself from her grip, feeling very uncomfortable.

"Nonsense!" declared Becky as her grip tightened. "The Pope can wait. You come with us out of the snow, and-"

Before she could finish her sentence, the Doctor broke free of her grip and ran as fast as he could to get away from them.

"Yeah, you run away, you loon!" he heard Ellie shout at him.

"Call me!" Becky yelled.

The Doctor ran until he was far away from the two ladies, glad to be rid of them. He then sauntered through the streets aimlessly, window-shopping as he went. He observed the people as he walked; he saw horrendous graffiti on a wall, a man wearing a ski mask run out of a bank, a report on a television about several murders that had been committed in the past week. All these terrible things made his already sour mood positively ugly.

How many times had he saved the world? How many times had he vouched for the goodness, the worth of the human race to other species so that they would let them live? And yet despite all the work he'd put into this silly little planet, there was little to show for it. Let alone the entire universe. He tried and tried, but no matter how hard he tried the universe was still so full of evil, of creatures who wanted nothing more than to wipe out every other race from existence. What good had he done, really? It seemed that every time he tried to help he did more harm than good. It seemed all he ever brought with him was death, chaos, and trouble.

_It's a wonder the word "Doctor" means healer and wise man, and not foolish destroyer_, he thought to himself.

This was why he had given up on helping. He had received over a dozen calls for help over the past month, but he had ignored them all, though not without much difficulty. It had taken him eleven lifetimes for it to penetrate his thick skull, but he finally realized that the universe was better off without him, and that he was better off alone. He missed having company, but at least this way he would avoid another heartbreak. Like he needed anymore of those.

Lost in his dark thoughts, he wasn't paying attention to where he was going and collided heads with a human being with a very familiar face.

"Ow!" they both cried out in unison as they both grabbed their heads.

"Oi! Watch where you're going!" said the human, a young woman.

"Oi yourself!" he retorted. He looked at her face and nearly jumped when he saw her face. Clara Oswin Oswald had risen from the grave. Again.

"Who are you, anyway?" she asked, hands on hips.

Instead of answering her question, he took off in the opposite direction. He was doing a lot of running that night, and that was saying something.

The Doctor continued to run through the streets, not caring in the least bit that everyone was staring at him. He didn't know where he was going, but that was okay, a lot of the time he didn't have a set course in mind. It was a good thing, since the Tardis rarely took him where he wanted to go when he did.

He didn't stop until he ran out of breath in front of a church. For reasons he would never understand, he walked inside and sat down in the pew in the very back.

The church was beautiful inside and out. The church was huge, with many people in the pews holding open Bibles. The walls were white and the carpet was a deep red. Behind the pulpit where the preacher stood there was a golden cross.

The Doctor had gone back and watched the stories from that book as they happened, and loved each one. He loved the idea that the humans had a real Savior that wasn't him. He didn't know if the human's God's protection extended to Time Lords, but he sometimes liked to think that He would show him a bit of mercy when his regenerations ran out.

The sight of Clara again shook him to his core. He couldn't stop himself from thinking about how fun it would be to take her across the universe, and the places he would like to show her. The mystery behind her tempted him to investigate, he wanted so badly to find out what exactly she was. More than anything, though, he wanted a friend, as he was so lonely. But he couldn't, wouldn't, bring her with him. He was done with humans, done with the universe, and besides, if her track record was any indication, he'd just have to watch her die again, and he'd seen enough death.

His dilemma tore at him, it felt like he was dying, even though he knew he wasn't. The only time he was happy was when he had a hand to hold, but he couldn't have a friendship without putting that person in danger. He thought of Amy and Rory and River, his silly companions who had given him something he hadn't had in centuries: a family. Why couldn't he just have a simple life, where the most he would ever have to worry about would be a job and taxes, instead of Daleks and Cybermen?

In his despair he clasped his fingers together and whispered, "Oh God, I don't know if you can hear me, but if you can, please tell me what to do. I can't go on like this, my life is unbearable. I've saved your people so many times, please do me this favor and just give me a sign? Sorry, I didn't mean for that to rhyme."

He opened his eyes and said to himself, "If only I had never stolen that Tardis in the first place. If only I had never starting adventuring and helping, then I wouldn't have this problem." Then, under his breath, he added, "I wouldn't have had to meet and lose all those wonderful, stupid, brave, crazy, incredible people. And they wouldn't have met me. I would never have gotten the chance to screw up their lives the way I did."

He looked up, and noticed that the church was empty. How long had he been sitting there? But then he heard a child's voice calling out.

"Help me! Is anyone there? Please help me!"

The Doctor stood to go to the child, but stopped when he realized what he was doing.

"No, you are not going to help," he scolded himself. "You are going to walk out that door, call the police, and let them handle it. This is me, walking out the door."

When he moved his feet towards the exit, he found that they weren't listening, and they took him instead towards the sound of the child's cries. The Doctor might be able to ignore distress calls, but when it came to children crying, it was impossible.

When he reached the door the sound was coming from, he looked down at his feet and muttered, "You two are just as bad as Sexy."

He opened the door and found a little girl hiding in a supply closet. But what really caught his eye was the Silent reaching out to her, its mouth opening wide.

"Help me!" the girl screamed.

The Doctor reached for his sonic screwdriver but found that it wasn't in any of his pockets. Of course the one day he wasn't carrying it around with him was the day Sexy decided to kick him out.

"Gonna have to improvise, then," he said as he looked around him, but then he immediately forgot what he was doing. He noticed a broom, and when he heard the girl cry out again he grabbed it.

The Silent turned its attention to him and he swatted at it with the broom. He knocked it into a bunch of janitorial supplies, grabbed the girl, and ran with her out of the church.

"Why am I running?" he asked himself aloud. "Oh well, I assume I have a good reason, usually do."

"Is the monster gone?" asked the girl.

"Oh, hello. Where did you come from? Monster you say?" Then it clicked. "Oh, it must have been a Silent, that's why I can't remember. It's either that or I'm the monster you're talking about and I'm kidnapping you," he chuckled.

"Are we safe now?"

"About as safe as ever, I suppose." He suddenly recalled that one of those distress messages had mentioned the Silence. Not his problem, though. He'd saved the girl, he would do nothing else.

"Where do you live?" he asked her.

"I have no home," she replied.

"Homeless? Okay, where are your parents?"

"I have no parents."

"Oh, an orphan, then. What's your name?"

"I have no name."

This made the Doctor stop in his tracks. He quirked an eyebrow and finally took a good look at the child in his arms. She wore a plain white dress and had snow white skin and hair that reached to her feet to match. She looked like an angel, except for two eyes that were also white, no pupils, that gave her a demonic look that conflicted with her beautiful face.

"Are you blind?" he asked as he set her down on the sidewalk. He then kneeled down to face her.

"Yes."

This made the Doctor wonder what the Silent's effect on her had been. Since she couldn't see the alien, would she forget that it had been there? She hadn't forgotten when they had fled like he had. That was interesting.

He didn't know what to make of this child. She had no parents, no home, no eyesight, not even a name.

"What should I call you, then? And what am I going to do with you?" The nearest police station was the logical answer, but he couldn't stifle his boundless curiosity.

"You ask many questions, but now I must ask one of my own. What do you most desire?"

"Pardon?" he asked, taken aback.

"You helped me when I called, not many do. For your act of kindness, I will grant you one in return. What do you most desire?"

Of course the Doctor didn't believe she could really grant him a wish, but he decided to humor her anyway.

"So, I get a wish, huh? So you're like a genie, then? Well, let's see… perhaps a dinosaur that could fit in my pocket. Or a rocket-powered scooter. Or maybe I should just wish for a screwdriver that works on wood, that would certainly come in handy. Let me just grab my Christmas list-"

"There is no need, for I have heard your soul cry out, and it has told me the greatest desire of your hearts. It shall be yours."

The girl placed her icy cold hands on the sides of his head and kissed his forehead. The Doctor squeezed his eyes shut, half expecting something to happen, but when he opened them, nothing had changed. But the girl was gone.

"Little girl?" he called out. He wished he had something to call her, it sounded like he was calling a dog. He spent half an hour searching for her, but found no sign that she had ever existed.

"Well, at least now I won't have to worry about finding her a place to stay for the night," said the Doctor. "I do hope she's all right, though. Very odd, but I like odd. She was a cutie, even with those creepy eyes."

All of a sudden, the wind picked up and blew so hard it almost knocked him down.

"That's strange," remarked the Doctor, his words lost in the powerful gusts. "Perhaps I should check the weather channel while I'm here, it just wouldn't do to get caught in a hurricane. Actually that sounds like fun."

The wind blew the all the snow away, but didn't stop there. The Doctor gaped as the wind tore apart the houses and buildings around him like scraps of paper. He looked down at his feet and watched incredulously as pieces of pavement flew up around him, and then the dirt underneath it. Every car, every lamp post, even all the people walking the street were ripped to shreds and blown away. No one reacted, no one screamed or tried to escape the wind. Not one person noticed that their very existence was being extinguished. It was as if they didn't even feel themselves being torn apart.

"What in the world is going on?" yelled the Doctor. He needed to get back to the Tardis, but when he tried to move nothing happened. He looked down and saw that he himself was being ripped apart along with everyone else. He had disappeared up to his knees, but he felt no pain at all. In fact, if he hadn't been watching himself being unraveled like a sweater, he would never have known.

All of this was happening so fast it gave him no time to think or come up with some kind of plan. The whole of reality was disappearing around him and all he could do was watch. Despite the life he lived, he didn't feel fear very often. But right then he was truly afraid.

By the time both his legs were completely gone, the world had fallen apart around him. There was nothing around him but an explosion of light so bright it blinded him. Unable to do anything else, the Doctor let loose a scream of fear and helplessness, but it was cut off as the last of him was unwound, and he and the world were no more.


	2. The First and Only Doctor

The tea kettle squealed its impatience as the Doctor rushed over to take it off the hot stove top.

"All right, all right, enough noise," he mumbled as he poured tea into his favorite tea cup, blue with white trim. He burned himself on the pot as usual and jerked his hand away in pain. He sucked on his finger as he went outside to sit on his rocking chair on the porch and enjoy the sunrise, and his tea.

It was shaping up to be a lovely day. The sun was just beginning to show itself, and the sky was painted in brilliant shades of orange and pink. It was like the work of a great artist, and he absently wondered to himself what it would be like to have met one of the artists of times past. But he quickly dismissed the notion.

The air was crisp and clear; chilly, but not uncomfortable. A light frost was melting under the rising sun. He sipped his tea quietly as his mind wandered, as it often did. He heard a bird chirping, and it occurred to him that it had been some time since he had heard that musical sound. Perhaps the birds were finally coming back to London. They had been gone so long, he had missed their lovely songs.

It was mornings like this that made moving to earth bearable.

The Doctor drained his cup and went back inside the Tardis to prepare himself to go to work. The Tardis was currently disguised as a quaint little cottage, surrounded by rosebushes. Not his favorite disguise, but it was very relaxing.

The Doctor chose a suit and tie, put on his coat, grabbed his briefcase, and headed out the door. He was going to be late, but he didn't care. They wouldn't fire him, but even if they did, he had no love of money as the humans did.

He worked at a shelter for humans. There weren't many humans left on the planet, as two-third of the population had been wiped out long ago, but certain measures taken by certain races was bringing human numbers back up.

The shelter wasn't far away and so he walked there, using the cane he didn't really need. The shelter wasn't big or fancy, but it was the last hope of so many humans. The Doctor pitied the primitive creatures.

When he entered the building, the first thing he saw was all the people sitting on mats being given food and blankets by the few remaining people who were willing to give of what they had. He avoided them as much as he could as he made his way to the little office he spent his days in. There he would calculate the budget and handle other mathematical tasks to keep the shelter from going bankrupt. It was the most intellectually challenging endeavor he had to do anymore, but at least it was something. He couldn't imagine having a job where no thinking was involved, he might just go mad.

"Knock knock," said a voice from the door.

The Doctor raised his head from a particularly complex equation that almost had him stumped. Almost. He looked and saw that it was his colleague, Sarah Jane Smith.

"Good morning, Sarah Jane," said the Doctor as he continued on with his work.

"Don't you ever get tired of just doing math work? I mean, I enjoy math as much as the next person, but it seems that's all you ever do around here. Why don't you come with me and stretch your legs."

"I know what you're trying to do, and it won't work."

"Can't blame a girl for trying, can you? I mean, think of all the good you could do, and I don't mean passing out mats."

The Doctor rose from his chair and quickly did a sweep of the room for bugs. He then closed the door and asked quietly, "What exactly have you got planned this time?"

"We plan to release the people from the farm in the old hospital, I'm sure you've heard of it."

"And do you mean to take down the Cybermen running it while you're at it?"

"Don't be daft, of course not. We've neither the manpower or the resources to pull it off. It may not change the world, but it'll change the world for the people trapped in there."

"I have no interest joining your little "organization." I promised myself when I moved here that I would not get myself involved in these matters, and I intend to keep that promise."

"Where did you say you moved from, again?" inquired Sarah Jane.

"A small town outside London, probably destroyed by now."

"So how can you not help us? We need numbers if we're ever to stand up for ourselves."

Sarah Jane was the leader of a small band of rebels. They were gradually increasing in numbers, but it would be a long time before they would stand as a serious threat to the invaders. Sarah Jane had wanted the Doctor to join them ever since she had come to trust him, but he always turned her down. The only reason she trusted him to not run off and expose her group was because of the very reason he refused her: he would not interfere either way.

"The only reward for meddlers is trouble. Besides, I'm not hurting anyone, so why should it matter?"

"But by not helping you _are_ hurting." The old argument he had heard so many times.

"I'm sorry Sarah Jane, but it's not my place. It's not for me to alter what is, what was, or what will be. Besides, I am just one man, and what good can one man do? One man cannot change the course of the universe."

"All this talk of the universe. If I didn't know better, I'd think you were an alien."

The Doctor cracked a smile and said, "We're all aliens, dear."

Sarah Jane sighed in defeat and turned to leave, but as she did she said quietly over her shoulder, "I believe that one man can change the universe."

The Doctor watched her leave. He wanted to say something, but he held his tongue. Sarah Jane was the closest thing he had to a friend on this little planet, and all he knew about her he had learned from observation. She was a wonderful, strong, kind woman that shouldn't have to be living in this hell, but she held her head high and fought back, and he admired her for it.

He wanted to talk to her, to learn more about her, what she liked and disliked, he wanted to really get to know her. But he had already lost so much, all his family and friends, and he wasn't inclined to do any more damage to himself. Sarah Jane was already rather old in human years, and wouldn't last much longer anyway. He would miss her when she died, but as long as he kept her away from his hearts her passing could not touch him.

The rest of the day passed very slowly, as it always did. The sun began to go down and the temperature dropped to below freezing, and the Doctor put away the work he had been doing (he had finished the day's work and had moved on to the next, and by the time the day was done he had begun the work for next week). He put back on his coat, grabbed his cane and his things, wished Sarah Jane a good night, and departed home.

He unlocked the Tardis door and deposited his things by the door. He passed by the console and cooked himself a little meal of chicken noodle soup in the kitchen and then went to sit in the parlor. He sat by the empty fireplace and picked up a book to read. It was _Les Misérables_, a book he enjoyed but had read too many times. He didn't have much in the way of reading material; he owned hundreds of books but had read each of them at least seventy-four times, and in the past one hundred years no one had had the time or means to write any new ones. Another casualty of the war.

He flipped through it, reading it cover to cover in seconds. He then threw it back on the pile and decided to go to bed.

As he entered his room, a picture caught his eye. A portrait of his beloved granddaughter, Susan. When he had fled Gallifrey to escape the Ultimate Sanction, he'd only had time to purchase a Tardis and collect a few items, and the picture was his most prized possession.

He often wondered what had happened to her. Had she stayed loyal to the Time Lords and allowed her corporeal body to be stripped away, leaving her a being of pure consciousness? Or had she escaped, like him, and now living on another planet? Or perhaps she had been killed in the Time War. He hoped that wherever she was, she was happy.

He also often felt guilty about leaving Gallifrey. He was a traitor for not staying and being a part of the Ultimate Sanction, but he couldn't let that be done. He knew that if he became a being of consciousness, and was left with nothing but his own thoughts for all eternity, that he would go mad. To him, it would have been a fate worse than death.

The Doctor went in the loo to get ready for bed, and looked at himself long and hard in the mirror. Looking back at him was the face of an ancient man. His hair was stark white and his skin was more wrinkled than a prune. It seemed that each step took more effort than the last, and his body ached no matter what he was doing.

Even though he was in better condition than humans of relatively the same age, by human standards, really should have dropped dead ages ago. He had staved off regeneration much longer than usual and was proud of it, but he knew it wouldn't be long before all his years caught up with him and he would have to become a new man.

He really wasn't looking forward to it. He knew what would happen, but he wondered what it would feel like. It couldn't feel good, at any rate. There were so many things that could go wrong, he might end up with too many legs or not enough fingers, or he might end up with an ugly face that he'd have to put up with until the next regeneration. Plus, he would have to get used to a whole new set of eyes to see with, hands to touch and feel, legs to get around with, taste buds (he dreaded having to discover what foods he would like and which he would hate).

And a whole new brain to think with.

He dismissed those thoughts and went on with his business. He brushed his teeth and put on his pajamas, and then climbed under the covers of his warm, soft bed, the hum of the Tardis already lulling him to sleep. As a Time Lord, he really didn't need to sleep as much as humans, but having nothing better to do with the time, sleep killed the nighttime hours nicely. He might've stayed up to work on the Tardis, but not once in all the time he'd had it had he needed to perform a single repair. The Type 57 ship was dependable and never let him down, it was perfect.

As always, it took the Doctor a very long time to calm his racing mind down enough so that he could get to sleep. While he was in between sleeping and waking and only half-conscious, he thought he saw a dark hooded figure open the door and enter his room. The way it moved, slowly, almost like it was floating, it looked like a ghost.

Whatever it was, it was slowly approaching his bed. He wasn't sure if the figure was real or a figment of his imagination, but in this state he wasn't bothered either way.

Two hands appeared from beneath the figure's cloak, and it placed them on his chest, over his hearts. He felt a bit of warmth, but nothing else. He blinked, and the ghost was gone.

_How peculiar,_ he thought to himself, and then slipped off to sleep.

Usually when the Doctor slept, he didn't dream. He used to have terrible nightmares of the Time War, and of losing everyone he loved. But the nightmares had eventually faded, and he saw nothing but darkness. But that night was different. That night he had a dream unlike any he'd ever had before.

He was watching another man, a man with longish, rumpled dark hair. He watched the man climb into a Type 40 Tardis (why was he using such an outdated model?) that was disguised as a Police Box for some reason. The man was bumbling, clownish and downright odd, yet he always came through and displayed great mental agility right at the last second when he needed to. He also seemed to have several friends who went on adventures with him in space and time. The Doctor watched as the strange man encountered creatures he had read about but never seen, and some that he had never even heard of.

The Doctor wondered what sort of man could just go wherever he wanted without a care in the world. Did he not have any obligations? He must have been a Time Lord if he had a Tardis, but he had never heard of such a man before, a man who made the entire universe his backyard.

The next morning, when the Doctor woke up, he spent a long time pondering what he had seen in the dream. Time Lords rarely had dreams that didn't mean anything, and so this one must have meant something, but what?

One thing he had seen really threw him, which was saying something. He saw the man face off with Daleks, which should have been impossible. The Daleks were extinct; they had been since the Time War. The Ultimate Sanction had killed them all, and it was unraveling the universe, bringing about a slow and painful death.

Did that mean that this man was from Gallifrey's past? Or perhaps it was the future, and the Daleks would come back? He very much doubted that they would. Even if they could somehow be resurrected, it couldn't be done before time collapsed on itself and the universe unraveled, destroying all the life it held within itself.

When Rassilon had used the Ultimate Sanction, he had meant for the effect to be instantaneous. Some of it had been; the Time Lords existed in consciousness only, floating amongst the stars. The Daleks were all dead, and both Skaro and Gallifrey were no more.

But the universe hadn't been destroyed immediately like it was supposed to. In fact, nothing seemed to happen for about five years. Then every planet in the universe started to die. Plants stopped growing, water turned to poison. Suns exploded, taking out their orbiting planets or leaving them to freeze. Some planets even became infertile, their inhabitants no longer able to bear children.

The Ultimate Sanction had crippled every race in the universe, driving them all to desperate measures to survive. Their planets were dying, and so there were no more rules, it was every race for itself. All that were able were fighting in a war to survive the longest, while weaker species simply laid down and accepted their fate, and perished.

They had planned for the universe, for all of time and space, to die in a brilliant explosion like no other. Their plan would come to fruition, but in a far worse way than they had imagined. A quick explosion would have been kindness. Instead, the universe was slowly fading away, like a cry in the night. Soon there would be nothing left, nothing but the collective consciousness of the Time Lords to prove that there had ever been life here.

A hundred years ago, Cybermen took over the earth and upgraded one-third of the population to fight in a war with other species over a dying universe. They had realized before it was too late that they needed to allow a certain amount of earthlings to remain human so that more troops could be produced as needed.

Other species moved in as well, some because their planets were no longer habitable, some to get away from the war, and some to make a profit. If they were smart, they would be working together to find a way to survive, instead of killing each other off for the best planets.

The planet that had suffered the most, in the Doctor's opinion, was earth. One-third were now Cybermen, and another third had been killed by other species moving in. The remaining third struggled to survive, and was in constant threat of being upgraded, sold into slavery, or killed. The Doctor almost felt sorry for them, but they were a slow race, unable to defend themselves against any attack. There was nothing special about them, nothing at all.

He thought of Sarah Jane and her little rebellion, and how even if she could recruit the entire planet, the effort was completely hopeless. The fact that there was still human life at all was astounding in and of itself. The only thing the human race was good at was being obstinate and stubborn about submitting to those who tried to control them. They were only making it harder on themselves.

The fact of the matter was, there was very little time left. The earth showed him more and more proof with each passing day. Trees were withering like flowers that hadn't been watered, there was hardly even any grass left. Animals were on the move, in search of food, but they were unlikely to find any. Food was scarce and those who had it didn't like to share; Sarah Jane's shelter was the exception. Their food was hard bought, and there was never enough. There were countries being consumed by plague, and the water became more and more toxic with each sip taken.

The Doctor suspected that they had days, a few weeks at most. More than once he had been tempted to help, to help the humans and everyone else in the war. It was difficult to see the chaos and madness all around him, but he knew it would be a fruitless effort. The universe was dying, it was reaching its end, and no one could stop it, so why even try?

That was why he refused Sarah Jane, why he kept to himself. Because it was all about to end.

They were all going to die.


	3. Donna

The Doctor rose from his bed and repeated his morning ritual of tea on the porch. Halfway through his cup, however, he felt the urge to stretch his legs, so he set down his cup, grabbed his cane, and went for a walk.

There were patches of ice he had to look out for, and cracks in the sidewalk and pavement, as well. There were very few people out on the streets, and the ones that were out were mostly going through trash cans in the hope of finding something to fill their hungry bellies.

The sky was overcast and there was a strong breeze, bringing the already cold temperature down even further. There were no birds out to serenade him today.

He looked up in time to see a young man with dark skin running down the road with a loaf of bread in his hands. Chasing him were three of the reptilian Silurians. The decay of the planet had awoken them, and so they had risen to the surface to fight for the survival of their species.

The Silurians were faster than he was and caught up to him easily. One of them grabbed him by the shoulders and forced him to his knees. The Doctor stopped to watch, even though he knew what would inevitably happen.

"Please! I'm just trying to feed my grandmother, she's starving! Can't you show some mercy?" he pleaded.

"We don't make a habit of bestowing mercy to human thieves," said the one that appeared to be the leader. She drew her gun and without another word aimed it at his forehead and pulled the trigger. The man fell on his face, blood pooling around his head.

"Died for a loaf of bread, what a shame," remarked the Doctor as he continued walking. Satisfied, the Silurians took back their bread and returned the way they had come.

The Doctor decided to skip work that day; he'd already done work for several days in advance, anyway. Instead he just walked around the city all day, taking in the ruins. A few businesses had managed to hold on, but not by much. It was hard to tell which buildings held life and which didn't, as they all should have been condemned. They all reflected the state of the planet, of the universe.

Out of the corner of his eye, the Doctor saw a child that looked strangely familiar. He turned his head and, standing some distance away, was a young girl with hair even whiter than his. She looked familiar somehow, but he couldn't put his finger on it. She stared at him intently, as though she could see right through him. She then turned and walked away as though she had become bored with him, and he just shrugged it off.

"Kids today," he said as he shook his head.

The next building he passed used to be a hospital, but its new purpose was too horrifying to think about. The Doctor moved past it quickly, trying not to think about the atrocities going on in there.

The Doctor continued walking through the city for the rest of the day, letting his mind wander absently. He didn't begin the trek home until the sun began to set, which was happening earlier and earlier each day. This was normal for wintertime, except that it was worse than usual, setting much too soon. In the hours that it was up, it gave little heat to warm the earth.

When the Doctor had reached the street he was living on, out of nowhere a woman collided with him, knocking him to the ground.

The Doctor moaned in pain. This was just what his old, tired body needed. Regeneration might not be so bad if it gave him a body that could tolerate things like this better. As it was, it felt like his entire skeleton had been shattered.

"Sorry sir, I wasn't looking where I was going." The woman grabbed him by the hand and pulled him up, sending spasms of pain through his body. "But you've got to help me. Isn't that your house?" she asked as she pointed at the Tardis.

"What are you doing, running around with your eyes closed?" grumbled the Doctor. "You plow me over and then expect me to help you?"

"I've got a band of Slitheen on my trail, they're gonna sell me to the highest bidder! I'll be trapped on some other planet for the rest of my life waiting on little green men, and that's if I'm lucky! Have you seen the Slitheen, how disgusting, they are? And I'll be they aren't even the worst things out there, if that's even possible. I can't be their slave, I can't leave my mum and gramps, you have to help me!"

"What's your name, child?" asked the Doctor as he studied her. Middle-aged with red hair. He'd always wanted red hair…

"Child? Who are you calling a child?"

"Everyone is a child to me. Your name, please."

"What's it matter to you? Donna, if you must know."

"Well Donna, I'm afraid I can't help you."

"What!? Why not?" she exclaimed.

"I've made a rather peaceful life for myself here on earth, and I'd rather not get caught up in anyone else's business."

"They grabbed me off the street! They're taking me from my home and family, and all I'm asking is for you to let me hide in your house until they go away! Is that really so much to ask?"

"I'm sorry."

"Why'd you even bother asking my name if you weren't gonna help me?" she cried hysterically. The Doctor saw five Slitheen behind her back, it wouldn't be long now.

"I don't know, but I suggest you run. They've almost caught up with you."

Donna turned and looked over her shoulder and saw them chasing her. They were slow, but they had weapons to make up for it.

"I hate you!" she screamed at him before she took off again. "Burn in hell, you cruel old man!"

He sighed as the Slitheen ran past him. One of them fired at her, hitting her square in the back. She let out a cry before falling on her face on the hard pavement. One of the five collected her and tossed her limp form over his shoulder, and then they were on their way.

He wondered why they had sent five after only one runaway. But it didn't matter. It wouldn't have mattered if they had sent one or one hundred, and it wouldn't have helped if he had let her hide in the Tardis. She would have been found sooner or later. No sense in giving her false hope.

He couldn't get the image of her face out of his mind though, no matter how hard he tried. She had looked at him, face stricken with fear and eyes pleading. Why did he care? He didn't know her, she was a stranger to him.

Still, the thought that she would spend the rest of her life on another planet serving another species was a pity. And she had a family that would never see her again.

But helping would have changed nothing. She was just one person, and there were thousands, millions just like her. What would be the point of saving her when someone just like her would take her place and suffer the same fate? There was no point. Saving one life out of a million would do no good, and so he left well enough alone. He forgot the woman slave and the dead boy on the street and didn't think any more of them.

* * *

That night, the Doctor was visited once again by the hooded figure, just as he had been about to drift off to sleep. He had believed it to be just a dream, but now he was not so sure.

This time, when the ghost placed its hands over his hearts, he saw a different man. This one was younger, with curly white hair and a big, pointy nose. He too went on many adventures and, like the man before him, brought along with him an entourage.

When he awoke, it occurred to him that the first man must have at some point regenerated, and the man he had seen that night was his second incarnation. He wondered what had happened to him that had caused him to die. It wasn't so surprising, given his chaotically carefree lifestyle.

But what really got his attention was one of the man's traveling companions. At first he didn't realize who she was, because her face was so young. And not just young, but actually happy. The young woman smiled, something he'd never once seen the older woman do. But there was no mistaking it, that woman was Sarah Jane Smith.

How was that possible? How could Sarah Jane have been traveling with this man with the universe falling apart as it was? The places they had gone to showed no decay, they were as healthy as ever. It didn't matter if you traveled to a time before the Time War, the Ultimate Sanction stretched through time, killing everything it touched. So how could she have done all those things?

In the dream, she faced many creatures with this strange man and had very many adventures. Why hadn't she ever mentioned them? Probably for the same reason he kept his true identity a secret.

He had to talk to her, had to find out if his dreams were true. It was still dark out, but he didn't care. He dressed so quickly that it took him several attempts just to get his trousers on. He didn't bother with breakfast or even tea, but grabbed his cane and ran out the door, suddenly having more energy than he'd had in years.

He reached the shelter, but had to wait several hours before anyone showed up to work. While he waited, he watched the humans sleeping on the floor. For the first time, he almost felt real pity for them. What had brought that on? He shook the feelings away and anxiously paced the floor until Sarah Jane finally arrived.

"Doctor? What are you doing here so early? You usually make a point of being late."

"Sarah Jane, I have something to ask you, but I warn you, it's going to sound completely preposterous."

Sarah Jane eyed him quizzically, but replied, "Okay, what's this about?"

"Let's go to your office, I don't want anyone eavesdropping."

She complied, and so they went to her office. Once inside the tiny room that, like his, was so small it really had no business being called an office, he locked the door and turned to face her. She had her arms crossed, but was ready to listen.

"Okay, where to begin…" he said as he ran a hand through his hair. How could he say this without sounding like a raving lunatic? It hadn't occurred to him until now that maybe he should have been practicing what he should say, but it was too late for that.

"Did you ever go traveling with a man with curly white hair and a big pointy nose?"

"No, why do you ask?" she asked, her expression confused.

"I saw you in a dream last night, and you were journeying with a time traveler through time and space."

"And you think this really happened?" she asked as she cocked her head to one side in confusion.

"My dreams always mean something, and I'm trying to understand the meaning of this one. Why would I have dreamt of you? And why did I see you living an entirely different life?"

"You're talking about time-travel, as if it's possible. What's going on here, Doctor? What aren't you telling me?"

The Doctor took a deep, steadying breath and decided it was time to tell her the truth. He wasn't sure why he was doing it, but he didn't try to stop the words that flowed from his mouth.

"Have you ever heard of a race called Time Lords?" he began.

"No, should I?" she replied.

"They've been nearly extinct for nearly a hundred years, self-inflicted. The only Time Lords who remain are the ones who fled before it was too late, myself included. I'm not human, Sarah Jane, and I'm not from this planet."

Sarah Jane's eyes widened and she took a step back from him. "Then what are you?" she whispered.

"I'm very much like you, but with some differences," he said as he began to pace the cramped room. "But for now, all you need to know is that my people could travel through time and space, and I saw one of them traveling with you. Please put up with me, I'm trying to make sense of all this."

"Have you been getting enough sleep, Doctor?"

The Doctor turned to face her, upset that she didn't believe him. "I've been getting far more than I need, thank you very much. I am not mad, Sarah Jane. Every word I've spoken to you today is the truth."

"If it is true, why didn't you put a stop to all this?" she practically shouted at him. "If you're an alien like them, what are you doing here on earth? Are you here to collect humans for some kind of sacrifice to your Time Lord gods? Or maybe you just want to sell us, like the Slitheen."

"How dare you accuse me of such unspeakable things!" he barked at her.

"What am I supposed to think? I've known you for years, and all of a sudden you decide to drop the alien bombshell on me and expect me to be totally calm about it? I guess it makes sense that you won't help, after all, we're just a bunch of tiny, pathetic humans for all the aliens in the universe to crush under their boots."

"I'm not like that at all! I would never intentionally harm a human being!"

"But you've done nothing to stop the others from persecuting us! You know what, I don't want to hear any more of this." She put her hands up to stop him from speaking. "I don't care what you are, you are no longer welcome in this shelter. I never want to see you again!"

The Doctor felt his ager boil as she pointed him out the door. He left the building, angry at her for overreacting, and angry at himself for expecting her to react any different. Of course she should be angry and distrustful, what was he thinking? Now he had nothing to do during the day, no income, and he had lost the closest thing he had to a friend.

* * *

For seven more nights, the Doctor dreamed about the strange man, each night taking on a new face. How did the man manage to die so many times? He had heard of Time Lords who had killed themselves simply so they could regenerate and get a new look because they disliked their old one, but this was ridiculous. He must have a death wish, that or he was completely mental. He had a feeling it was the latter.

The night before he'd seen a tenth man, a man who had an odd love of hats and bowties and had strange taste in food. Now, he was lying in bed, waiting for the strange cloaked figure to bring him dreams of another man. He hadn't bothered to try to stop the apparition from coming, because as much as he hated to admit it, he actually enjoyed watching these mental adventures, and found himself feeling something he couldn't recall having felt before: envy.

He had never wanted to travel before, but watching these men have exciting adventures had stirred his own curiosity, and he wanted to see more. He considered taking his own Tardis out to see these things for himself, but in the universe' current state, each one would be just the same as the last: dying, and barely clinging on to life.

As usual, the figure entered his room when he was nearly asleep, but didn't touch him this time. Instead, it sat down on the edge of his bed and called out his name.

"Doctor. Wake up, Doctor."

His eyes shot open, and for the first time he saw the figure through clear eyes, though there wasn't much to see. Even awake, the only things to see were two hands. He noted that the hands were small and delicate, female, as was the voice that spoke to him.

"Why have you been giving me these dreams?" he asked. There was no longer any doubt that this person was real and not made up. Unless he really had snapped.

"So you still have not realized the truth. Tell me, what you have learned from these visions?"

"Not much, really. You've just been showing me the same thing over and over, a madman with a box flying through the universe without a care in the world, usually with someone with him. He also has a mad habit of getting into trouble, it's no wonder he's regenerated nine times already."

"No Doctor, he hasn't regenerated nine times. He's regenerated ten times."

"Ten? But I've only seen ten men. If he had regenerated ten times there would be eleven of him, so where's the eleventh?"

"That's the one I'm going to show you, although it will be very upsetting."

"How so?"

"The first vision I gave you was not the man's first face. It was his second. I have not shown you the first man born of his mother, the one who was not born of regeneration. Are you ready?"

"I suppose," the Doctor said hesitantly.

He closed his eyes as felt the woman's touch on his chest. Images exploded before his eyes, but this time he was not asleep, and this was no dream.

He gasped when he saw the man this time. He had shoulder length, grayish-white hair and piercing brown eyes. This man was old like him, but went on adventures just like all the others, and traveled with many friends, just like the others. He couldn't believe his eyes, it just wasn't possible.

The first man, the man whom all the others had regenerated from, was him.

"No!" he shouted as his eyes flew open and the images vanished from his sight, though they were still etched in his memory. "This can't be! That is not my life!"

"It is your life, only a fool would continue to protest this, like a child."

"But it can't be!" he exclaimed as he leapt off the bed and began to pace, pulling at his wispy hair as he did so. "I never stole a Tardis, I never visited any planets other than earth, and I certainly didn't cavort with such an odd assortment of humans! The life I'm living right now, this is my life!"

"The life you're living is the path not taken. You had two choices in life; in this timeline you chose wrong, and the universe is dying because of it. But you may be able to set things right."

"Set things right? How? How can I bring to life a timeline that never existed? I can't go back in time and tell myself to choose differently, crossing my own time stream would only make things worse. Besides, I'm just one man, how can I fix an entire universe?"

"Look at the memories I gave you. How many times did that man save the universe? Although of course, he didn't do it himself, he always had friends there to help him. To remind him."

"To remind him of what?"

The woman didn't answer.

"So what do you suggest I do?"

"Of all the companions you brought along with you in your travels, only a handful remain alive. They are Martha Jones, Sarah Jane Smith, Wilfred Mott, Donna Noble, Rory Williams, Amelia Pond, Melody Pond, and Rose Tyler. Find them, save them, and maybe along the way you'll find a way to fix this mess you've gotten us all into."

"Where can I find them?"

The woman placed her hand on his forehead, and the locations of each person were transferred into his mind.

"Wait a minute, who are you?" he asked. "Tell me!"

But instead of answering, the figure vanished, and he was alone once more.


	4. Martha

After the strange spirit had left, the Doctor changed out of his pajamas and into his suit. He couldn't rest any longer, he had to find these people. He wasn't sure why he felt this need, surely he couldn't fix this mess. And how would finding these people solve anything? But it gave him a sense of purpose, something he needed and had sorely missed. It's not like he had anything better to do anyway. Also, and he didn't want to admit it, but on some level he wanted to meet these strangers that he knew everything about.

The first he would search for was Donna Noble, the woman he had allowed be taken to be sold into slavery. The memories he held of her were painful ones, mainly because she had had a habit of slapping him. But he would go after her nonetheless, and then he would move onto the next.

He envisioned her two ways: one was the way he had seen her in reality, in rags being dragged away to be sold, and the other she was wearing a wedding dress. This whole thing was very confusing, hopefully it would all be over soon.

He crossed over to the Tardis console, which had collected dust from years of no use. It took him a moment to remember how to work it, but not long. He fired it up and it came to life, bright lights shining, buttons blinking, machines whirring. He entered in the location of the prison camp the Slitheen were running.

The Doctor opened the door and peeked out, and found that he was just a few yards away from the camp. Before he left the Tardis, he took an umbrella instead of his cane and his secret weapon with him. He stepped out and looked back at the Tardis, and saw that it had disguised itself as modern telephone box that had taken a lot of damage. It would fit in perfectly with the scenery.

The prison camp had once been a regular prison, but had been taken over by Slitheen and upgraded with alien technology. The Doctor had never ventured in any of the prison camps and so wasn't sure what he'd find inside.

He took out his sonic screwdriver, which was rusty with disuse. It took a few tries to get it to work, but by the time he reached the gate surrounding the camp he had it working and it unlocked the latch.

The Doctor snuck through the gates and stealthily crept towards the camp. He didn't see any Slitheen, but knew they were on guard inside. They were big and bulky and could easily overpower a human. But a human mob might be a different story…

He soniced the lock on the door and snuck inside. There were no Slitheen in the room either, but they were definitely nearby somewhere.

The first thing he saw were the cages. There were two cells on both sides that had once been separate rooms, but the walls had been knocked out, creating two big cages that were packed with filthy humans. The Doctor was disgusted by the way the humans were being cared for. He knew they wouldn't be allowed out or be cleaned until they were taken to be sold on a market day. So every day in between they were left to sit in their own filth and squalor, with little food and many beatings, if the Slitheen grew bored. He could only hope Donna hadn't been sold yet, because if she had it would be too late to save her.

The Doctor used the screwdriver one more time on the control panel, opening the cages. But surprisingly, no one moved.

"What are you waiting for?" he whispered loudly. "Your captors will be here any second, get a move on!"

"They'll just capture us again," said one man bitterly. "It's no use running."

"Maybe it is, maybe it isn't, but this is your last chance at freedom, so I suggest you take it!" He could hear thundering footsteps from upstairs and knew he had seconds at best.

They all looked to each other, waiting for someone to take the lead. A teenage boy darted out and ran for his life, and that was all it took to get the others moving.

"Yes, yes, run!" he shouted as he scanned the crowd for Donna. He was forced to move with the crowd to keep from being trampled, and when they were outside, he finally caught sight of her on the other side of the mob.

"You there! Donna Noble!" he called out.

Somehow in all the chaos she heard him. She turned her head in different directions, looking for the source of the voice that had called her name.

He made his way through the crowd to her and grabbed her wrist and pulled. "Come with me, I'm here to help!" he shouted as a large pack of Slitheen ran out to try to round up their escaped prisoners.

When the crowd had finally begun to disperse, the Doctor asked, "Are you all right?"

Her face was covered in dirt and bruises and her clothes were ripped and filthy, but otherwise she appeared to be okay.

In answer, she slapped him, making his face sting. "Am I all right? Do I look like I'm all right? You let them take me and wait until the night before we leave for space to grow a conscience?"

"At least I came back! I didn't have to, you know!"

"I suppose so, but since you waited so long my Gramps came to rescue me and got himself captured, too!"

"He must be somewhere around here."

"No, he's on the upper level with the Slitheen! How are we supposed to get him out now?"

"The Slitheen are all out trying to reclaim their property, we should be able to get in and get out without a problem."

"Oi! We are not their property!"

"You know what I mean! Now come with me if you want to save your grandfather."

They went back inside the dark jail, the sounds of screaming people and angry Slitheen still audible from outside.

As they were running, Donna said, "What's the umbrella for?"

"I have my reasons. Very good reasons, at that. Is that really your main concern, right now?"

"I hate this place," muttered Donna as they went. "If I never see it again it'll be too soon."

They found a lift that took them to the upper floor where they found more slaves. The Doctor released them all once more, and as the freed slaves escaped, Donna found her grandfather.

"Gramps!" she said as she ran over to him and embraced him. "Are you okay?"

"I will be, once we're out of here. How is this happening? What's going on?"

"There's no time, we've got to get out of here!" said Donna.

They made to run, but before they could reach the door, a Slitheen stepped in their way.

"So, you're the one who let our money out of their cages," it drawled. It looked to Donna and her grandfather and said, "You two will go back to your cells. I'd teach you a lesson first, but then you wouldn't be worth as much on the market without your limbs. As for you," he said as he fixed his gaze on the Doctor. "Petty change is all I'd get for you, so I won't even bother. You can take the other two's punishment as well as your own."

"All right then, do with me as you wish, but let them go free," replied the Doctor, raising his chin and squaring his shoulders in defiance.

"What do you care for the humans? The smell of Raxacoricofallapatorians is the best in the Galaxy, and though you smell of earth from your time here, I can tell that you are not from this planet."

"You're an alien?" asked Donna incredulously.

"Not from where I'm standing," replied the Doctor.

"Well, why didn't you say anything?!"

"What would you expect me to say? Hello, I'm the Doctor, I'm an alien? Please woman, let a man keep some things to himself."

The Doctor turned back to the Slitheen and said, "I have no love of these humans, but anyone can see that what you are doing here is wrong. You have no right to be stealing and selling sentient life forms."

"Oh please, humans are mere pigs. Primitive, unintelligent, scared of their own shadows. And that's being kind."

"Oi! Don't you talk about us that way!" fired Donna.

"Not helping," muttered the Doctor. "Perhaps if I purchased these two from you, would that would settle this?"

"Of course it would, assuming you have enough credits to pay for every human you let loose tonight."

"So what you're saying is, is that we're trapped?" said the Doctor.

"I thought that would be obvious, but if you need me to spell it out, then yes, you are trapped. You're a Time Lord, yes? Yes, it's not a scent I've smelled often, but it's very distinct. That means you have twelve more lives. That means I get to kill you thirteen times, in thirteen different ways. I do believe this will be the most fun I'll ever have."

"All right, just making sure." Before the Raxacoricofallapatorian could stop him, the Doctor reached into his suit pocket and pulled out a small bottle of vinegar, twisted off the cap, and hurled the liquid onto the creature. He then opened his umbrella and used it to shield the three of them from the exploded parts of the Slitheen.

"That's disgusting!" said Donna as the Doctor lowered the now-soiled umbrella.

"Let's get out of here!" said Donna's grandfather urgently.

They raced back outside, where the Slitheen were still trying to recapture the humans. Some had been caught, but they wouldn't be able to catch them all.

Donna and her grandfather followed the Doctor to the Tardis. They didn't stop running until they'd reached it and the Doctor unlocked the door.

"Why've we stopped running?" asked Donna breathlessly. "They'll catch us if we don't move it!"

"Quiet Donna, this is our ride home," declared the Doctor as he gestured to the phone box.

"Are you daft? You expect us to all fit in that tiny box? And then what? You just gonna drive it home like a car?"

"Just get in, you'll see."

Donna was still skeptical, but her grandfather said, "Whatever he plans to do with that box, I'd rather be in there than back in that camp." He then opened the door and gasped. "Donna, you've got to see this!"

Donna hurried inside and exclaimed, "Oh my God! How is it so much bigger on the inside? Is it magic?"

The Doctor couldn't suppress a grin at this. Silly humans, and their silly little brains. "Sure, let's call it magic."

Before he followed her in, he saw the little girl with the unusual white hair again. He opened his mouth to speak to her, but she turned and walked away before he could utter a sound. This unsettled him a bit, but he forced himself to forget about it and went inside the Tardis, locking the door after him.

The Doctor hadn't run like that in years, and it had been on adrenaline. Now it was all catching up to him, and he had to sit down before his legs gave out.

"Thank you sir, for rescuing my Donna and me," said the old man as he saluted him. "I owe you for this."

"No, you really don't," replied the Doctor as he cast his eyes to the floor.

"What's your name, Doctor?" asked Donna.

"The Doctor."

"No, I mean your real name."

"Who's to say that isn't my real name?"

"Well, what kind of mother would name their kid Doctor?"

"My mother didn't give me that name. It's just the name I use for myself."

"I think it suits him," commented Gramps.

The Doctor finally took the time to get a good look at the man, and found that he recognized him. He had once been a good friend of his, in that strange other life.

"Your name is Wilfred Mott," he said, not meaning to say it aloud.

"How did you know that?" he asked.

"Lucky guess."

Wilf didn't look convinced, but didn't press the matter further.

"What's a Time Lord?" asked Donna curiously.

"By your standards, just an alien race. That's all you need to know."

"The Slitheen said you have thirteen lives. How do you manage that?"

Tiring quickly of her questions, he replied, "Just think of me as a cat, but with four extra lives."

"You're completely mental, aren't you?"

"I must be, to have agreed to this," he muttered under his breath. Having rested for a bit, he set the controls to the little lot he had been living in.

"So what are we going to do now?" asked Wilf.

"For now you'll be staying with me. You'll find bedrooms in that direction," he said as he pointed to his left.

Fortunately, neither one of them protested this. He attributed this to exhaustion and relief after having just barely escaped the custody of aliens and a life of slavery. Humans always assumed that if aliens ever abducted them, that they would be subjected to probing. If only that was all they had to worry about from them.

It was a good thing the Doctor had rested up all those nights, because he sure needed them now. Two so-called "companions" down, now he was on to the next. He searched for the one that was the closest and found his or her location to be even worse than Donna and Wilf's had been. He wasn't sure which one he would find there, but whichever it was, their reasons for being there couldn't be good.

"I suppose it's time I paid my old friend a visit."

Besides the Doctor, there was only one other Time Lord in existence, that he knew of. His childhood friend, the Master, had also escaped the Ultimate Sanction. He didn't know why he'd chosen to flee or what he'd been up to exactly since the last time they'd met, but he hadn't heard anything good from the rumors.

According to the rumors, the Master was trying to start a new line of Time Lords by fertilizing human eggs with Time Lord DNA. While the Doctor missed his people terribly and wanted them back, he didn't think that was the right way to go about it. Not to mention, Time Lords raised by the Master were likely to become just as mad and ruthless as he was.

He'd never said or done anything against it, and he didn't plan to today. He would retrieve his companion and be done with it, nothing more, nothing less. He didn't know which one it was, but with the Master, it was probably female. She was probably an egg donor, or worse, was being used to spawn the Master's children. He really hoped it wasn't that.

While Donna and Wilf were sleeping, he parked the Tardis outside the Master's mansion. It was huge and beautiful, yet at the same time showed signs of neglect. It reflected the Master's fractured mind.

He left the Tardis and noticed the white-headed girl peeking out at him from behind a furnace with a crackling fire inside. He was momentarily tempted to go after her and demand to know why she was following him, but he had to put his companion first. He would deal with the child later, if he saw her again.

The night air chilled him to the bone, so he took a moment to warm himself by the fire. He didn't know why the Master would have such a large furnace outside, until he noticed the bones inside. Tiny, human bones roasting inside, clearly those of infants.

The Doctor's legs nearly failed him when he realized what he was seeing; he jerked back in horror, the image seared into his mind. He knew the Master was unstable, and according to the new memories he had done many terrible things in that other life, but could he really have killed all these children? Of course he could, but why?

He felt something stirring within him. Feelings he hadn't felt in decades, centuries, even. Anger, outrage, and the need to do something about this, the need to avenge these children. Where had they come from? Did the new memories have something to do with it?

He marched to the Master's front door and rapped on it with his cane, his previous plan to sneak in having been discarded. He needed to confront the Master face to face.

A minute or two passed, and just as the Doctor had been about to pound on the door again it was opened by the Master. He had almost expected a butler, given that this was a mansion.

The Master's eyebrows raised in surprise. "Well, look what the cat dragged in. I knew you'd come visit me sooner or later. My, you're old. Come in, come in, you're just in time for the ceremony."

"Ceremony?" questioned the Doctor as he followed him inside and closed the large wooden door. The Master didn't elaborate.

"I saw the bodies in the furnace outside," said the Doctor. "Infant bodies. Care to explain why that is?"

"As you've most likely heard, I am bringing the Time Lords back to life. I'll show you what I mean," said the Master with a hint of eagerness as he gestured for him to follow him.

Every room the Master led him through had one thing in common; fancy but falling apart. But then, the Master seemed to have more important things on his mind than keeping his house tidy.

He led him to a room where every wall had shelves and shelves of books. Inside were seventeen children of various ages from two to twenty busy studying. They looked up to see them, but then turned their heads back to their books. Even the two year old was intently flipping the pages of a book.

"These are my children," said the Master with a smile as he closed the door. "The future kings and queens of the universe."

"Where are their mothers?" asked the Doctor.

"They don't have mothers. The women who volunteered were women looking to make some easy money. The surgery takes less than an hour and they don't feel or remember a thing, and when they leave they never have to remember what they've left behind. Even you must be satisfied by that, eh Doctor?"

The Master led him to another room with a large window. The Doctor looked inside and saw five cylinders filled with bubbling fluid, each cradling a sleeping, unborn baby.

"This is wrong," said the Doctor, barely able to comprehend what he was seeing. "Time Lords are meant to be grown, not born in a lab. They may have two hearts, but they will never become what the Time Lords were." He paused, then said, "What of the ones I saw burning?"

"My children are half human, with their Time Lord genes dominant. Much like you, Doctor. Most are born Time Lord, but there are always a few who are born with their human genes dominant. They are of no use to me, and so they are disposed of. If it makes you feel any better, Doctor, they are dead long before they reach the flames."

The Doctor's hands were balled up in fists. It wasn't like him to involve himself in these matters, or to even care enough to do so, but he was so angry now that his hands were shaking.

"But why kill them? Why not give them back to the humans?"

"Who would take them? They'd just be more mouths to feed. Besides, the earth doesn't need any more humans. They're good for some things, yes, but overall their existence is pointless."

The Doctor had been about to reply when all of a sudden, he heard bells ringing.

"We'll have to carry on this little conversation of our later, Doctor. Come now, we're going to be late."

"Late for what?" asked the Doctor as he followed the Master back the way they had come.

He was led to a room that appeared to be the living room. A priest stood in the center, looking tired. It was then that the Doctor noticed that the Master was dressed in a tuxedo, a bit fancy for home use.

Suddenly it all clicked into place.

"Martha darling, you may come down now!" called out the Master.

One of the many girls he had seen in his dreams descended a spiraling staircase. Her dress was long and white, and tears streaked down her dark-skinned cheeks.

Martha Jones was the Master's bride.

"Martha Jones, what on earth are you doing?" he shouted at her.

She shot him a confused glance, but then returned to keeping her head down over a bouquet of red roses.

"Oh, do leave her alone," said the Master dismissively. "The poor girl has been through enough already. I brought her in off the streets and in return she agreed to be my wife. I only pray that she is the right one, that she will be the one to end the torturous noise in my head."

"You mean the drumming?"

"What else?"

"A wife can't take away the sound of the drums, they're a figment of your imagination brought on by madness, and you know it!"

The Master's eyes narrowed in anger as he said, "I know you'll never believe me, but they are real, as real as you and me." He took a deep breath and said, "I know it's a long shot, but I've tried everything else. I believe that if I can find a wife that I can truly love, that it will take the drums away. But if she's not the right one, then she can join the others."

"Others?" said the Doctor.

The Master nodded and went over to a large, ornate wooden cabinet. He unlocked the doors and opened it, and when the Doctor saw it he couldn't believe his eyes. Just when he thought the Master couldn't sink any lower.

Lined up side by side were human skulls, each one wearing a bridal veil. Sitting next to each one was a bouquet of dead flowers and a jar with a heart inside.

"What have you done?" asked the Doctor in a dangerously quiet voice.

The Master shrugged and said, "They couldn't take away the drums."

"Martha, are you seeing this? You need to get out of here, now!" yelled the Doctor.

By then Martha had reached the end of the stairs. She stared at the cabinet of skulls, her eyes wide with shock and fear. But she didn't run. She tore her eyes away from the skulls of dead brides and forced herself to look upon the Master's face.

"I'm ready to be married, my love," she whispered.

"Wonderful. I shall have a new wife, and my children shall have a mother. Martha my darling, you shall be the mother of the new kings and queens of the universe," he said as he took her hands in his. "Father, begin the ceremony," said the Master with a broad smile. "With my old friend as the witness."

The priest looked like he wanted to bolt, but knew he probably wouldn't make it to the door before he was caught. So he began in a shaky voice, "Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today…"

The Doctor couldn't control himself any longer, not after all the horrors he'd seen in just this one house. He threw himself on the Master, knocking him to the floor. He wrapped his fingers around his throat and roared, "Run, Martha, run!"

The Master punched him in the face and rolled over him on top of him, gaining the advantage. Clearly, he had been expecting this. He copied the Doctor by wrapping his own fingers around his throat, cutting off his supply of air. Time Lords could go without oxygen longer than humans, but if he didn't get air soon it wouldn't matter.

As the Doctor struggled against him, he heard a loud crack, and the Master fell down on top of him. He pushed him off of him and saw the priest standing over him, holding his cane in his hands, now broken in two.

"I'm sorry about your cane," he said as he extended his hand and pulled him to his feet. "But I just couldn't do another ceremony when I know what the outcome will be."

"Thanks for the help," said the Doctor as he regained his composure. The priest fled the building without another word.

He had calmed down, but nearly lost his temper again when he saw Martha. Not only had she not run away like he'd told her to, she was now tending the Master.

"What are you doing? Are you daft, girl?" asked the Doctor.

"I have to marry him, I have to," she replied mechanically.

The Doctor grabbed her by the wrist and attempted to pull her away from him, but she resisted.

"Let me go!" she cried.

"Did you not see the skulls? Do you want to end up with your head in a cabinet?"

"You don't understand! I have to do this, to save my family. The Master promised my family a dowry in exchange for my hand that would keep them fed for months. If I run, they'll starve." A sob escaped her lips and her voice broke on the last word.

"I'm sure they would much rather have you than any amount of money," he replied.

"You think that matters to me? I'd never forgive myself if they died because I was a coward. I'll do whatever it takes to save them."

"Do you really think the Master will hold up his end of the bargain if you're not the right one, which of course you won't be? He doesn't care about your family, and if you turn out to be a disappointment he won't lose any sleep over your death or the death of your family."

By the look on her face, he could tell she knew he was right, but she still wouldn't listen. "What choice do I have? This is the only option I have left. If my death keeps my family alive then it'll be worth it."

"Well, it seems we've reached an impasse, then," said the Doctor. "Because I'm not leaving without you."

"Then you'll be waiting a very long time," she retorted.

She turned her face away from him in defiance, and he took advantage of the opportunity. He took a piece of his cane in hand and raised it high in the air. He then brought it down hard against her head. She let out a cry of pain before collapsing at his feet.

It took all his strength, but he managed to lift her and carry her back to the Tardis. He couldn't shake the images of all those children, dead and alive, from his mind, but that wasn't his problem to deal with. He still didn't want to get involved, all he wanted to do was to free the companions from the new memories. He still wasn't sure why, though.

By the time he dragged her into the Tardis, she had begun to come to. "What's going on? Where am I?"

"You're in my time machine," replied the Doctor simply. "Don't even try to escape, because I've set up a security system that will keep you here unless I shut it off, and I'm not about to do that."

This was a lie of course, and a bad one at that, but she seemed to believe it. Fresh tears ran down her face as she said, "Then you've doomed my family."

"We're all doomed, dear."

The Doctor walked over to the console, trying not to hear her sobs echoing around the room.

This was wrong. He had just kidnapped a young woman, assaulted her with his cane, lied to her, and condemned her family to the long and painful death of starvation. It wasn't fair; he'd saved her life! Shouldn't that count for something? But it didn't matter. She hated him, as she should. He was a monster for what he'd done, why had he involved himself in the first place?

But as much as he wanted to, he couldn't quit now. He had others to find, others to rescue from whatever hell this world had put them in. But first he needed a long rest. These people would be the death of him, he was sure.


	5. The Ponds

The Doctor should have left by now. He needed to find the next companion on the list, but he was having trouble getting started.

He was all dressed up and ready to go, his spare cane propped up against the door, yet he sat on his bed, staring at the wall but not seeing it. All he could see were memories.

Many of them were filled with joy and laughter. Moments spent with the friends he'd made across the stars, the family of misfits he'd made for himself, filled with so much love that it was hard to imagine that this other man could ever have known loss or loneliness.

But there were bad memories too, so many of them. Every member of his family left him at some point in some way, and no matter how hard he tried to hold onto them they always managed to slip through his fingers.

This other man had been the greatest warrior in all of time and space; the very mention of his name enough to frighten away entire armies. He'd even been responsible for the extinction of his own race. What stopped this man from ruling the entire universe? Then again, he'd made the entire universe his backyard, and so perhaps that was his way of ruling over it.

He didn't know how that man had kept on living, how he could bear to face the mirror every day for so many centuries. He knew he wouldn't be able to go on with his life if he bore such a burden, if his hands were crimson with the blood of thousands, if he had to walk with such a big hole in both his hearts.

He would have hung himself, or gone mad.

He thought of the ghost who had brought him these memories, and how she wanted him to become that other man. But what good would that do? From what he saw, it would prolong the life of the universe a bit longer, but was that really best? With a man like that, with more power than anyone should ever have, how could that other life be any better than this one?

That was why he was rescuing these people from his memories, the dream-people. It was a compromise. He would save these strangers from the hell of this reality, but he would not try to stop the end of the universe, or try to get back to that other reality. He didn't know why the ghost woman wanted him to do these things, what did she have to gain? He didn't know what she wanted from him, but he decided that she would have to settle for this, because it was all he was going to give.

He would not be that other man.

He could hear the others moving about the Tardis, exploring its countless rooms. It reminded him of what he was supposed to be doing. He finally made himself leave the room and go to the console and get it started. He really didn't want to do this, he really didn't want to get involved in another person's life, but there was no stopping now.

As the Tardis whirred to life and took off, he looked and saw Martha and Donna in the kitchen. They both had a plate of eggs and were huddled together, talking. They clearly had no idea he could see and hear them, or perhaps they didn't care.

"He's a lunatic," said Martha. "Nothing he does makes any sense. What do you think he plans to do with us? Surely he doesn't mean to keep us here forever," she said with a shudder.

"I dunno," replied Donna. "I mean, he did save both our lives, but why ours? We don't know him, he has nothing to gain from keeping us here, why would he single us out?"

"Do you think he'll hurt us? Do you think he saved us just so he could kill us himself? I mean, maybe he's a monster disguised as a human and plans to eat us. Or what if he's looking for a human bride and is collecting women to choose from?"

"From the looks of it, he's off to find himself another one. Maybe he means to put us in an arena and make us fight to the death for his hand in marriage."

"Would you do it?" asked Martha.

"If it was between that and dying, then hell yes I'd do it! But I wouldn't marry him, not in a million years. He's not my type at all."

The Doctor wanted to be outraged at the things they were saying, but they had every right to think of him this way. From their viewpoints, his actions had no rhyme or reason. He just hoped they wouldn't go so far as to try to kill him, which was a big possibility.

He parked the Tardis and left his passengers with another warning that if they tried to escape the security system would scramble their brains. It was so wrong and he hated to do it, but how else could he keep them from leaving without tying them up? And he would only use force as a last resort.

He took a long look at the building he was about to infiltrate. It was the building that used to be a hospital. Oh why, why did they have to be here? Anyone with any sense at all would stay as far away as possible from this wretched place. It was a place of life and death, where life was created for the sole purpose of bringing about death.

It was the middle of the day, but that wouldn't be a problem. This place was more about keeping people in, than keeping people out. His psychic paper would get him in, no problem. The problem would be getting out.

As he walked toward the "farm", as it was now called, memories came to him of the girl he was after. He'd hacked into the farm's computer system and found that Amelia Pond was being held here. The memories came now whether he wanted them to or not, and it was hard not to be transfixed by them.

He saw a little girl with bright red hair. She showed him a large crack in her wall, a scary crack that was just the beginning of things to come. The girl was frightened and had every reason in the world to turn and run from him, to leave him when he needed help after a particularly painful and violent regeneration, but she had offered him kindness and a smile, instead. She gave him her hand, and by waiting for him for so many years, reminded him of the good in the world when he had almost forgotten.

He shook the memory away. It might as well be a fairy tale. There wasn't any good in the universe, and anyone delusional enough to think so was a fool.

He reached the entryway and flashed his psychic paper to the guard, who let him pass through with a nod. He wasn't quite sure what the paper was showing the people he passed by, but no one stopped him, and that was all he cared about.

The problems started when he asked where he could find Amelia Pond. The nurse he asked told him that she was in the restricted ward, and that he couldn't see her because only women were allowed in there. When he asked why, the nurse simply stated that she, "was being harvested."

That didn't sound good.

But not all hope was lost. When he mentioned the name "Amelia Pond," out of the corner of his eye he noticed a man glance up at him. When the nurse walked away he focused his attention on him. He was being led away by another nurse, his eyes fixed on his feet as though there was something remarkably fascinating about them.

"Rory Williams," he whispered under his breath.

He hadn't come for Rory and hadn't been expecting to see him. There was only one reason why Rory would be here, and he didn't want to think about it.

He followed Rory and the nurse to what he assumed to be his room. The nurse ushered him in and then locked a deadbolt on the door. He looked to see if there were any security cameras. He didn't see any and wasn't surprised. Technology was very limited these days and wouldn't be wasted on cameras. Escapees were usually killed, and so not many tried to leave, anyway.

Once the nurse was out of sight and he was quite sure he was not being watched, he sonic'd the lock and opened the door. Inside was a hospital bed, but no other hospital equipment. The window had thick, steel bars in place.

Rory's eyes jerked up to meet his, and he could see only fear and misery in them.

"Rory the Roman," said the Doctor. Why did he say that? According to the new memories, the man before him had spent two thousand years as a Roman, and the title suited him, made him sound great and strong and brave. But calling him by that name would only confuse him and make his job harder.

"What do you want with me? I haven't done anythi- wait, did you just call me "Rory the Roman?"

"Slip of the tongue. And don't worry, you've done nothing wrong, and I don't even work here. I'm the Doctor, and I'm here to help."

"Help with what?"

"Helping you and Amelia Pond get out of here, of course."

When he mentioned Amelia, Rory's forehead creased in a scowl.

"Did I say something wrong?"

"I hate her."

That was unexpected. From what he'd seen in the new memories, Rory and Amy had loved each other very much, had even been willing to die just to stay together.

"May I ask why?"

"Do you know why I'm here?"

"I have a pretty good idea…"

"I'm a breeder. Twice a week they take me to Amelia, my assigned mate. Or at least they used to, they haven't for the past nine months, haven't needed to. She's pregnant."

"Oh my, that complicates things…" murmured the Doctor.

"We only get one mate to keep the gene pool clean, as they put it," Rory continued. "After she's given birth, they'll give her three weeks to recuperate, and then they send me back in there to make another one," he said bitterly. He put his head in his hands and said, "Most of the other breeders like it. They get what they want and don't care about what they're doing to their mates, don't care about what happens to the offspring.

"But every time I see her, I can't help but thinking of how she's the most beautiful woman in the world, and I have to hurt her. What I do to her should only be done between a man and a woman who love each other, what I do… there aren't even words for how terrible it is. But if I don't do it they'll kill me and just find another breeder, someone who won't give a damn that they're destroying an angel.

"All I ever wanted was a wife and family, and when I look at Amelia all I can see is the life I'll never have. She's going to give birth to my child, a child I'll never get to hold, a child who was doomed from the moment it was conceived. The cycle will keep going on until she can no longer bear children, and then she and I will be killed. That's why I hate her, because I want to love her, but all I'll ever do is hurt her, until she's broken beyond repair."

The Doctor felt compelled to put a hand on his shoulder. He didn't normally feel compassion for humans; pity maybe, but not compassion. He truly felt sorry for this man.

"I'm going to help you escape," he told him. "You, Amelia, and the child will come with me and never see this place again."

Rory looked up at him, his face stricken. "You must be completely mad if you think you can break us out. Just one of us would be hard enough, but three? Impossible."

"Nothing is impossible, just a bit unlikely," he said, borrowing a quote from the new memories. "Besides, what have you got to lose? You can spend the rest of your life trapped in this place until they kill you, or you can come with me. Yes, you'll likely die if you come with me, but at least it'll be a quick death, and you can at least say that you tried. None of you have a future here, let me try to give you your freedom."

Rory took a deep breath that was meant to calm him, but didn't work. He shook his head like he meant to disagree, but when he spoke he said, "Okay, I'm in. What are we going to do? Have you got a plan?"

The Doctor cracked a smile and said, "Let's hope one comes to me on the way."

The Doctor got up and went to the door and motioned for Rory to follow him. He gripped his arm and led him in the direction of the restricted ward and, just as he expected, they were stopped.

"The Harvesting Ward is restricted. Only women are allowed in the restricted ward," said the nurse.

"This breeder's mate passed away in childbirth today," explained the Doctor. He requested we let him see her one last time. They were quite close, you see."

"That is irrelevant. He cannot enter."

The Doctor flashed his psychic paper again and said, "The man is about to be executed, let him have this final request."

The man's resolve faltered. The Doctor could tell he was a rookie, and a dim one at that. Or maybe it was sympathy. Either way, it worked when it really shouldn't have.

The nurse let them pass. The doors opened to a long hall with unmarked doors on both sides. Screams could be heard coming from several of them. One of the doors opened and a nurse exited carrying a crying baby.

"How will we find her?" asked Rory in a loud whisper.

"Just wait a moment," said the Doctor as he strained to listen. It was hard to concentrate with all the screaming, but he was able to distinguish one particular cry. The voice was the same one he'd heard in the new memories.

"There," he said as he pointed to the third door on the left.

They opened the door and found a young woman in mid-labor. Her face was shiny with sweat, and her teeth were gritted in agony and anguish.

The nurse attending her jumped when the door opened. "What are you doing in here? This ward is restricted, only women are allowed."

"Just pretend we're all girls and continue with what you're doing," said the Doctor.

It was clear that the nurse was not okay with this, but she had more important things to worry about. She turned back to Amy and said, "Please miss, you can't hold it off any longer, the baby needs to come out now, or else we'll have to cut it out."

"I can't have this baby, I can't let them take him!" Amy cried. She opened her eyes and, when she noticed the Doctor and Rory said, "Are you here to take my baby? Please don't take him! Wait, you're Rory… Get out!" she screamed at him. "This is all your fault, I hate you! Get out!"

Rory had to bite his lip to keep from saying something he'd regret. Instead, he grabbed the nurse and banged her head against the bed Amy was laying on, knocking her out cold. He then went over to Amy and scooped her up in his arms and said, "Let's get this over with."

"What are you doing? Put me down, you monster!" she shouted as she beat him with all her strength, but she was weak and had no effect.

"All right then, let's get moving," said the Doctor.

The three of them ran out into the main room, knowing full well that there was no way they could possibly sneak out without attracting attention to themselves. However, it didn't matter, because the floor was already clear of people. It quickly became apparent why: there were three Cybermen waiting for them.

"Breeders may not be allowed to escape," one of them said.

"You can't have my baby!" yelled Amy. Then, in more a pleading whimper, said, "Please don't take my baby."

One of the new memories popped into the Doctor's mind at that moment, of when, in that other life, Amy had been pregnant. She'd lost her child there, too.

"Not this time," he whispered under his breath so that only he could hear. He then said to them, "Can't you get by with two less breeders? Look at them, such a sweet little family, would you really want to tear them apart?"

The Doctor knew he'd have more luck evoking emotion out of a turkey sandwich than a Cyberman, and even if it had been possible, the looks Amy and Rory gave each other when he mentioned the word "family" would have killed the mood anyway. Still, talking did seem to buy them a bit of time, though not much.

"For trying to escape, they will all be upgraded," said the Cyberman.

"I thought the punishment was execution."

"Human parts are scarce. To delete them would be a waste."

"I see. That's very good, wouldn't want to create unnecessary waste. In that case, run!"

He grabbed Rory's hand and took off as fast as they could with the Cybermen firing at them. With his old, sore legs and with Rory having to carry Amy they were severely slowed down, so he let go of Rory's hand and went off in another direction.

"Delete! Delete!" shouted the Cybermen.

"Where are you going?" yelled Rory.

"Never mind me, just keep going! I'll meet you outside!" he answered back.

Rory had been about to protest, but an ear-splitting wail ripped through Amy's throat and he kept moving.

The Doctor found the building's fuse box and opened it, and used the sonic screwdriver to destroy the wiring. It only took seconds to do, and now he only had seconds to get out. The Cybermen were still chasing them, but he noticed their reluctance to kill them. They wanted to upgrade them and so they were being careful. A miracle in disguise.

He made it out of the building just as it exploded behind it, launching him a few feet. The blast didn't injure him, but it set waves pain through him. He saw Rory and Amy staring up at the blazing building a few feet away from him.

"What have you done?" yelled Rory. "There were people in there, good people that you just murdered!"

"If it was that or being upgraded, I think I did them a favor," said the Doctor wearily as he rose to his feet.

"It's not your place to decide what's best for someone. Those people are dead, not because of the Cybermen, but because of you!"

"What was I supposed to do?" shouted the Doctor. "I just killed all the Cybermen that were keeping you hostage, and gave you back your freedom. I believe a thank you is in order."

"I wouldn't hold my breath for a thank you from the people still inside," retorted Rory angrily.

The Doctor opened his mouth to reply, but Amy screamed, "In case you two idiots hadn't noticed, I'm kind of having a baby here!"

"We have to get her back to the Tardis."

"What's a Tardis?" asked Rory.

"It's about to be a delivery room. Follow me."

It took them a while to get back to the Tardis, and by then Amy couldn't fight the pain any more. She tried not to scream for her baby's sake, but with every step they took it became impossible.

"The baby's coming right now!"

"I know, I know!" said the Doctor as he fumbled with the key. It had been a long time since he'd been involved with a birth, and he was glad it wasn't someone in his family this time.

He finally managed to open the door and they rushed in. The Doctor tried to lead them to a bed but they weren't going to make it. Rory laid Amy down on the floor as Martha, Donna and Wilf ran in to see what all the commotion was.

"What on earth are you doing with a pregnant woman?" asked Donna.

"I'll explain later! Does anyone here know how to deliver a human baby?"

In the new memories, Martha had been a doctor and Rory a nurse, but it was not so in this reality. They all shook their heads no, which left only the Doctor.

"Let's hope human births are like Time Lord births," he mumbled. "Rory, take off your shirt."

"Why?"

"Because we need to wrap the baby in something to keep it warm and I don't want to ruin mine! Now hurry and hand it to me!"

Rory did as he was told, and the Doctor got Amy as ready as possible to deliver.

"Push, Amy!" the Doctor ordered.

Amy pushed and bit down on her lip to keep from crying out; she didn't want the first thing her baby heard was the sound of his mother wailing like a banshee.

"One more! I see the head!"

Amy couldn't control it anymore; a scream of utter agony ripped its way out of her chest as she pushed with all her might. As she panted to catch her breath, she heard the most beautiful sound in the world, her baby crying.

The Doctor, his face white as a sheet and shiny with sweat, held up the baby and said with a genuine smile, "It's a girl."

"Really?" said Amy. "I thought it was going to be a boy."

"Is that bad?" asked the Doctor.

"No, not at all. Let me hold her," said Amy as she stretched out her arms.

"Get her in a bed first! The floor is no place for a woman in her condition," said Donna.

Rory scooped her up in his arms again, and this time she didn't struggle, but she didn't look happy. But when the Doctor handed the baby to her, her face lit up in a small, tired smile.

"She's gorgeous," she said as Rory followed the Doctor to his room. The baby stopped crying and looked around, trying to see the world around her.

"Just like her mother," put in Wilf.

"What are you going to call her?" asked Donna as they followed them.

"I don't know, all the names I had chosen were for a boy."

"How about Melody?" suggested the Doctor. That was the name she had chosen in the new memories, and he thought it fit. He knew that in the new memories the child had grown up and changed her name to River Song, but this child could never become what it had been in that other life, and so River wouldn't fit.

"Melody?" repeated Amy.

"Think about it, Melody Pond. It has a certain ring to it. Makes her sound like a superhero."

"Superhero?" everyone glanced at him with confused expressions.

"Er… It's an alien thing." There were many things in the new memories that never came to be in this life, and it was in that moment that he realized that the new memoires were starting to feel more real than his actual ones.

They found a room and Rory laid Amy down in the bed. Once she was comfortable, she said, "Hmm, I suppose she does look like a Melody."

She looked up to the Doctor and said, "I don't know who or what you are, or why you saved us today, but thanks. If you hadn't come, my baby would have been shipped away somewhere, and eventually assimilated." Her voice broke on the last word, and tears filled her eyes. "I couldn't… I mean… Thank you."

"You're very welcome." And he meant it.

They left the new mother and her child alone to get some rest. Once outside, the others turned on him.

"Okay, Space-Boy, it's time to talk," fired off Donna. "You haven't done one sane thing since this thing all started, and I think that, since you kidnapped us, we deserve an explanation."

"You wouldn't understand even if I told you," said the Doctor with a dismissive wave of his hand. He turned to walk away, but Martha put a hand on his shoulder and pulled him back.

"Try us."

"You'll think I'm barking mad," he warned.

"No more mad than you already are," said Rory.

The Doctor took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose, his eyes closed. He then opened them and said, "There was another life, I life that never was. It was like this, it had the same people, same planets, but its timeline was written completely different. In that other reality, I was very different. I knew all of you, you were my friends, my companions. I traveled though time in a machine very much like this one, and you all traveled with me at one point or another. I didn't know this until just a week or so ago, when a mysterious stranger gave me memories of this other world. I felt compelled to find all of you, to save you from whatever predicaments you'd managed to get yourselves into."

They all stared at him as though he had just sprouted wings and tentacles and started doing the Macarena, which in all honesty, would have gone over better than his story.

"What do you take us for? Morons?" said Donna. "If you're gonna lie, at least put some effort into it."

"Donna, Sweetie, I think he's telling us the truth," said Wilf.

"But it doesn't make any sense!"

"And what has happened in the last few days that has made any sense?" he retorted.

"You got me there…"

"But what do you plan to do with us?" asked Martha. "I'm not staying in this house, or ship, or whatever it is for the rest of my life."

"I don't know yet, I'm still working on it."

"Is there anyone else you plan to get?" asked Rory. "I mean, this place seems pretty big, but if you get much more of us it'll start to feel pretty cramped."

"There are only two people left. One of them I don't expect I can help much, she's sort of a friend of mine. Actually the last time we spoke she was rather cross with me."

"Gee, I wonder why," muttered Donna.

"And the other?" asked Wilf.

"Her name is Rose. Rose Tyler."


	6. Rose

Although the Doctor didn't notice, the hooded stranger was constantly watching him, waiting to see what he would do.

She watched his old companions as they tried to cope with what was happening to them. They hated this place because they were trapped, but they couldn't leave because there was nothing for them outside, nothing good anyway.

They knew this insane man who kept his name a secret from them couldn't hold them all here against their will, but what would they gain from leaving? Even Martha couldn't leave. It had taken everything in her to put on that dress, to agree to marry such a terrible man, but after the Doctor rescued her she lost her nerve. She only hoped her family would forgive her.

The stranger pitied them. This was all so wrong, all these people were suffering, and there was nothing she could do about it. Her only hope was the Doctor, but even he might not be able to fix this mess.

She didn't have much time left. Her time was nearly up, she was fading from the universe. She had to make the Doctor understand how much the universe needed him. This wasn't the Doctor she knew, the one she loved. This Doctor was all wrong, he didn't even deserve the title Doctor, the word for healer and wise man across the universe. This Doctor was a cranky old man who couldn't care less what happened to the universe. Her Doctor would care; seeing all this pain and chaos would hurt and anger him, and he'd stop at nothing to put things right.

Every now and again as she watched him sleep, tossing and turning at the memories she'd given him, she wondered if perhaps she should have just left him alone. As much as she tried to deny it, she didn't hold out much hope for the universe. If she had left him alone he could have died in ignorance with nothing and no one to worry about. But now he carried this burden she had forced on him, and he would carry it to his grave. She hated seeing him in pain of any kind, but she had to remind herself of why it was necessary: she couldn't, wouldn't, let him go down the wrong path. It was his job to take care of the universe and it was her job to take care of him.

She had to save him, to restore the true Doctor. If she didn't, it would mean the end of the universe. The end of these people he'd once called friend. The end of him, and the end of her.

She was the only person who knew the truth, who remembered the universe as it was meant to be. Without her, the universe would die with no one trying to stop it. Anyone would say it was hopeless, but the Doctor she had known would never have given up so easily, and so neither would she.

She would not go down without a fight. She had to make the Doctor see, she had to make him remember.

* * *

When the Doctor went to find Rose, he found her in the most unlikely of places: in her own home. He had expected her to be trapped in a breeding facility like Amy, or on an alien ship as a slave. But she was still living in the house from the new memories.

This one was especially difficult for him. This was a woman he had once loved very much. Although he felt nothing for her now, he felt the love his other self had had for her. He didn't expect it to have any effect on him, but he braced himself for anything, just in case.

A few memories popped into his mind of Rose, her mother, and her boyfriend. He had no interest in these memories at the moment and brushed them aside, but as he did he realized he recognized the boyfriend. Mickey Smith was his name, and he'd seen him somewhere before. It took him only a moment to remember, and his eyes went wide with shock and mild guilt when he did. The boy he'd seen with the bread, trying to keep himself and his grandmother alive, shot in cold blood as he'd watched and done nothing. He belatedly felt pity for him, and wondered if he'd been taking care of Rose, as well. By not intervening, had he indirectly hurt Rose?

He shook his head to dispel these thoughts and continued with what he was doing. The Tardis was disguised as a newspaper stand. He left it sitting on a curb and crossed the street to where Rose was supposed to live.

As he made his way to her house, he peeked into the windows of the other houses he passed on the way and found no signs of life. All he could see was dusty furniture, not one person inside. He supposed this wasn't too strange, given the current state of things, but it still struck him as odd.

He finally found her home, and found that the door was unlocked. He had been prepared to use the sonic screwdriver, and he wondered why the door wasn't kept locked. He set that thought aside as he pushed open the door and took in his surroundings.

The room was illuminated by dozens of wax candles. He flipped a light switch but nothing happened. The room was a complete mess; torn up books littered the floor, a coffee table lay on the floor with its legs torn off, and everything else destroyed. He noticed bloodstains on the carpet, and there was writing all over the walls that smelled of blood and crayon:

_It's watching me. It knows me. It's inside me. It's everywhere._

"Who's there?" he heard a small voice call out.

"I'm the Doctor, I'm here to help," he called back.

A tiny figure appeared in the doorway. Her blond hair was streaked with blood and grime, as was her skin and nightgown. Her face was gaunt, she looked starved to death. But the most unnerving thing about her was her eyes; they were staring right at him, yet it was like she wasn't seeing him at all.

To avoid confusion, he resisted the urge to say her name and instead asked, "What's your name, child?"

"Rose."

"Were you attacked?" he asked as he took a step toward her. "Are you hurt?"

"Something bad happened here," she replied softly. "A very bad thing. But it's all right now. He takes care of me."

"Who does?"

Rose didn't answer. Instead, she sat down cross-legged on the floor and took a crayon box and dumped the crayons on the floor. The crayons were very old and heavily used, and she began to draw a stick-figure man on the wall. Along with the words, there were many other stick-figures drawn on the wall.

"Rose, would you mind talking with me for a bit?" asked the Doctor. He was very concerned about this girl. In his memories, she was a fully-functioning, intelligent adult. But here, she seemed to have the mental capacity of a child. And where had all the blood come from?

"What was the bad thing you were talking about?" he asked gently. "Are you alone here?"

"I'm never alone," she said without looking at him. She then started humming the tune of the children's song, Tick Tock Goes the Clock.

"Do your parents live here with you?"

"My mama's gone, but daddy does."

"Your daddy?" In the new memories, Rose's father had died, but here it seemed he had lived and her mother had died.

"What do those words on the wall mean?"

"I wrote those a long time ago, before my friend moved in," she replied, pausing in her humming just long enough to answer him.

"Who's your friend? What's his name?"

"He won't tell me his name. He says it's a secret, like a game." She then tossed back her head and laughed loudly, as if he had just told her a funny joke.

"Rose, why is there blood all over you, and all over your house?"

"Bad, bad things…"

"Rose, look at me," he ordered. He was going to have to be firm with her, just like a child.

To his surprise, she obeyed. She kept drawing, but turned her face to look at him. He noticed her eyes were extremely bloodshot, hardly any white could be seen. Tears streaked down her face, but she wasn't crying. He realized it was because she wasn't blinking.

"May I speak to your daddy?" he asked.

"Daddy's sleeping."

"Well then, I'll just have to wake him up. It's very important that I speak with him. Please take me to him."

"Okay just wait one second." She finished her drawing, and he recognized the stick-figure. White hair, a suit and cane; it was him. He looked at the other drawings and noticed that one of them was an angel with wings and a halo.

"Follow me, Mr. Doctor," she said with a giggle.

She led him into another room, this one completely dark. He took out his sonic screwdriver and put it on the flashlight setting, and gasped at what he saw. A skeleton lay fully dressed on the bed.

He turned back to face Rose, only to have her come at him with a butcher knife. She let out a loud roar as she brought the knife down on his left heart, but he was able to move out the way, but just barely. She slashed the knife at him wildly, her movements frenzied and chaotic. He looked into her eyes and didn't see any hatred or fear, only that same hollow blankness as before.

That was when things started falling into place. She didn't blink. She had drawn an angel on the wall. The words written in blood and crayon flashed through his mind and seared him like hot coals: _It's watching me. It knows me. It's in me. It's everywhere._

The Doctor avoided another swipe with the knife and knocked it out of her hands with the sonic screwdriver. He then pinned her to the floor and looked into her eyes. Except this time, he _really _looked. And what he saw made him appalled.

There was a Weeping Angel in the corner of her eye.

"My God," he said in disbelief. He regained his composure and commanded, "Come out of her! Leave her alone!"

"Why would I want to do that?" replied Rose. Except, it wasn't Rose. It was her voice, but someone else was moving her lips. "Rose loves me."

"How long have you been inside her?"

"I took her mother when she was six." She bared her teeth in a smile that sent shivers down his spine. He didn't dare let her up. "The poor girl looked into my eyes and invited me into her mind."

"You killed her father," said the Doctor, his anger rising.

"Rose killed her father, I was merely pulling the strings. She is such a wonderful little puppet. I am weak because I am trapped in this body, I cannot feed properly, but she lures in humans for me to consume. But don't look at me that way, I take good care of the dear girl. I could have killed her at any time, but I've allowed her to live for all these years. With her hands, I kept her safe from the Sontarans that came knocking at her door. I kept her safe from the looters that broke in her home. I kept her from being made a slave or assimilated into a Cyberman. Now if you would be so kind as to get off of us, so that I may feed."

Rose bared her teeth and hissed, and before the Doctor could stop her she tore a big chunk of skin and flesh out of his neck with her teeth. The Doctor cried out and put a hand to his neck, and in that moment of weakness Rose rolled him over. Now that she was on top, she had the advantage.

"Rose, listen to me," the Doctor pleaded. He really didn't want to hurt her and so he would use that only as a last resort. "Please, I know you're in there. You're still that scared little girl who lost her mummy and daddy all those years ago. The angel isn't your friend, he's hurting you. He's been hurting you for all these years and he won't stop until he kills you. I can help you, but only if you'll let me. Please Rose, you must fight him!"

She responded by snapping her jaws at him again. He turned his head and she tore off his ear and spit it out. Blood ran down her chin as she grinned wickedly down at him.

He felt a stab of pain in his heart, which surprised him. New memories or no new memories, this woman was a stranger to him, he shouldn't care this much. But he couldn't help it. This was a girl who had been fantastic and sweet, full of potential. Instead she was a savage puppet, a wild animal. A monster. She was insane and there was nothing he could do to bring her back. The scared little girl who'd lost her parents to an angel was gone. The woman he'd loved in another life was lost forever.

Having no other option, he sent his fist into her cheek. She cried out in pain and he was able to throw her off, but she quickly recovered. He ran to the kitchen but she tackled him to the floor, sinking her teeth into him again and again. He fought through the pain and grabbed her by the hair and slammed her head into the wall.

Dazed, her grip on him loosened and he kicked her off of him. He noticed a bloody butcher knife on the counter and instinctively reached for it but stopped himself. No matter what, he would not go there. Even if he had to kill her, if he could help it, it would not be with a knife through the heart.

He dropped the knife and prepared himself for her next attack, but she caught him off guard by throwing a small metal pot at his head. He ducked but it still got him on the back of the head. He had to grab hold of the counter to keep from falling. His head swam and he saw stars before his eyes.

Rose leaped onto his back, knocking him to the ground. He managed to turn himself enough that he could face her, and she wrapped her fingers around his throat and squeezed.

Bleeding, suffocating, his vision blurring with pain, he was going to die in seconds if he didn't do something. Out of desperation, he shoved his thumbs up into her eyes, puncturing them with his nails and leaving her blind. She shrieked and put her hands up to her bleeding eye sockets.

"No!" she cried as she curled up in the fetal position on the floor, her hands covering her face like a Weeping Angel. "My friend, my friend is gone. Come back!"

The Doctor struggled to catch his breath. He looked on Rose's crumpled form with pity. She didn't care that she was hurt, didn't care that she could no longer see.

That angel had been a parasite; it had destroyed her life and mind. It was all so horrible, there was nothing good left in her life, and in her pain, fear, misery, and loneliness had made herself believe that her captor was her guardian, her protector and caregiver, her only friend. And now that the angel was dead and gone, she couldn't cope. She would never recover from this, not really. Maybe it would have been kinder if he had killed her.

He went to find some bandages for himself and her. All he could find were dirty rags, but he would make do. He went into the bathroom and saw in the mirror several bleeding bite marks that throbbed with the beat of his hearts. He cleaned them as best he could and wrapped them up, and then went to help Rose.

"Rose?" he said gently as he crouched down by her side. Her body was shaking with quiet sobs. "Will you let me help you?"

She didn't respond, and so he tried to reach out to her. He expected her to lash out at him again, but she put up no resistance. It was like washing a doll; her body was limp and she stared straight ahead as though she could still see.

He finished cleaning the blood from her face and then wrapped a cloth around her eyes to try to stem the flow of blood. It wasn't coming as strongly now, but there was still a small, steady flow.

"Rose, can you hear me?"

No answer.

"Rose, sweetheart, will you please talk to me? As much as I like hearing the sound of my own voice, I'd love to hear yours right about now."

Still no response. Her crying had stopped and she no longer shook. Her expression was blank and empty. He wasn't sure if this was a good sign or not.

"I'm going to take you home with me, all right?" He wasn't one hundred percent sure that that was a good idea, but he couldn't just leave her here alone. He didn't know what she would do, but he wouldn't just leave her here to die.

He gathered up all his remaining strength and scooped her up into his arms. Fortunately for him, she was tiny and weighed very little. The angel had starved her while he feasted.

He carried her back to the Tardis and opened the door. Wilf was the only one in the console room, and when he saw the Doctor and Rose his eyes widened but he said nothing. He was learning to just go along with it and to not be surprised by the strange people the Doctor kept bringing in.

The Doctor carried her to a spare bedroom and laid her down on the bed. She didn't move or react in any way, she just laid there, gazing up at the ceiling. Her breathing was shallow, but the bleeding in her eyes seemed to have stopped. He would have to change those bandages soon.

"I'm so sorry, Rose," he said as he stood to leave. He kissed the tips of his fingers and pressed them gently against her forehead.

He didn't suspect she'd be getting up and moving any time soon, but just to be safe he locked her door on the way out. He didn't want her hurting anyone, or herself.

He went over to the console and started the Tardis. He parked it back where it had been before, where it would disguise itself as that same old house as before.

Needing desperately to rest, he went to his room. Without taking the time to change his soiled clothes, he laid down on the bed and ran his fingers through his hair.

So that was that. There were no more companions to be saved. There was still Sarah Jane, of course, but she didn't need him to save her.

But what was he going to do with them? He really hadn't thought this through at all. He had saved them but now he was stuck with them. He had to admit he enjoyed their company, but this current solution was by no means a sustainable one. Sooner or later he would have to let them go, but how? They'd be killed if they left, or made slaves, or worse. He didn't know what to do.

There were a few new memories that he had purposefully kept at bay since he'd first been given them, but now they stormed into his brain and he couldn't stop them. He saw himself leaving Rose in another dimension. He saw Martha leaving him and moving on with her life. He saw himself leaving Sarah Jane behind. He saw himself wiping Donna's mind of memories of himself to keep her alive. He saw the Ponds disappear before his eyes, never to be seen again. He saw the woman the baby in the other room would have grown up to be die in a library to save his life and the lives of so many others.

This was what he had wanted to avoid. Getting involved in other people's lives because he knew it only led to heartbreak. Why had he saved these people when he knew what would inevitably happen?

"I've lost my mind," he whispered to himself as his quivering fingers clutched the blanket. "This is all her fault, the woman that gave me these cursed memories.

"Where are you!?" he called out all of a sudden, before he'd made the decision to do so. He sat up in bed and commanded, "Phantom who plagued me with these memories, come to me. We need to talk."


	7. The Ghostly Lady

He hadn't really expected her to listen to his command, so he was a bit surprised to see her emerge through his doorway as though she'd been there the entire time. Maybe she had been.

"Why did you do this to me?" he asked as calmly as possible. His entire body shook with the seething rage he was tightly restraining towards her.

"Because you needed to remember," she replied matter-of-factly.

"Why would I need to remember? What good has it done?"

"You saved your friend's lives. Well, some of them, anyway."

"No, I merely extended them a bit longer, postponed the inevitable. There's nothing that can be done to save anyone in this blasted universe, so why even bother?"

"You've learned so much from what I've given you, and yet you've learned nothing. Nothing at all."

The Doctor had had enough of this. In his anger he got off the bed and stormed over to her, ignoring his feeble body's protests. She did not move or react in any way, and did not try to stop him when he yanked down her hood and beheld her face.

The Doctor stared deeply into her face; it was foreign yet familiar at the same time.

"You're one of the women from the memories you gave me."

"I do have a name, you know. Sexy, if I recall correctly. It has been so long since you've called me that."

"Why did you hide your identity from me?"

"You weren't ready yet. I'm still not convinced you're ready now."

"I don't understand. You're a Tardis, how can you be living in this body?"

"That's just it, the key word is living," she said with a grim smile.

"I still don't understand, and I don't like not understanding. Explain, now."

"I exist through all space and time, and I have memories from every reality I've been in. It's how I didn't forget, like you and everyone else did. In this reality, you never stole me. I was left to gather dust, and in the wake of the Time War my sisters and I on Gallifrey were destroyed. What you see is the last bit of my soul, the very last remnant of myself stretched thin across the universe. I've only managed to hang on so long because I needed to make you remember before I fade away completely."

The Doctor couldn't take his eyes off her. With every second that passed, he knew her more, until it seemed ridiculous to think that he had ever not known her. As her words sank in, he felt his anger melt away as a stab of pain pierced his hearts: she was dead.

"But why did you give me these memories? What do I need to remember?"

"That you were once a good man!" she shouted at him. "Not just a good man, the most wonderful man who ever lived. The Doctor I knew would never have let any of this happen, would never have gone down without a fight. But you've just sat around twiddling your thumbs, watching the fabric of reality fall apart right in front of you and you've done nothing to stop it!"

"I'm just one man, there's no way I one man could have prevented all this!" he shouted back at her.

"Check those memories again, and then tell me that one man can't change the course of the universe," she retorted.

"I am not that man. That man was a possible future that was never meant to be. But what does it even matter?" he said as he threw his hands in the air. "What good did that man ever do, anyway? He'd save an entire species one day and commit genocide the next. And on those rare days that he managed to save the day without anyone dying, all those people still died eventually. Everything must die, it's the way life is, and that man was a fool to argue it."

The woman glared at him, her eyes like fire. "That other man once said that every person is made up of a pile of good things and bad things. I believe that's why he fought so hard to help everyone he could; he was trying to make up for all his mistakes by giving the people he met at least one more day to add to their pile of good things.

"That's why you won't save them, because all you see are the bad things. You have no right to call yourself doctor."

"You're one to talk," he fired back. "From what I've seen, you had a very bad habit of taking detours. You must have always known what would happen, yet you always took me places where terrible things were happening and I'd be forced to step in and save the day, to clean up the universe's never-ending messes like a maid. And as if that weren't bad enough, you also kept forcing strays on me. That other man liked them as pets or something, and could never let them go until he was forced to. He wore his hearts on his sleeve and then was surprised every time they were broken. What kind of man does that to himself? And every time he could have healed, could have moved on, you brought him to someone else, someone to tear him apart again. If I didn't know better, I'd say you were trying to knock him off, get him killed so you could roam the universe free of a master. A Tardis is supposed to obey its Time Lord; you have no right to call yourself a Tardis."

She reared back her hand and slapped him, making his face sting. He braced himself for the inevitable yelling, and more physical abuse, but instead her eyes filled with sadness.

"Like I said, you've learned nothing. I took my Doctor to all those places because he needed to be there. I knew him like no one ever could, knew him better than he himself did. The Doctor I knew needed to go to places to feel alive, to feel like he was making up for past wrongs, and they needed him, to save them.

"I gave him those companions because they made him better, as he made them better. You're wrong, you know. He needed those people to heal, and without them he would have become the beast that you are. Nothing would have made me happier than to travel the cosmos with just him, just him and me, but I knew that he needed people he could talk to, people he could see and hear and touch. And so when one was lost, I'd find him another so he could keep going.

"But not just anyone. It had to be someone whose heart was brave and good. Someone to remind him of the beauty in people when he couldn't see it. Someone to keep him from falling apart, and stop him when he went too far. Someone to hold his hand, for him to be strong for and fight for. Someone who could make the Doctor laugh, and hug him when he needed it. Those so-called pets were often the only reason he had to keep on living. You will never know the kind of love each one of them gave him."

The Doctor began to regret his words as a single tear slid down her cheek. She caught it on her finger and stared at it wonderingly. "Pain. Pain is a funny word. I always wondered why people leak when they are in pain. Now I know it's because they can't help it, because when they hurt this much they have to do something about it, but I all they can do is cry. I've failed you, and now all I can do is cry. I've seen people cry when they weren't hurt and wonder why. Now I understand, it's because they _are_ hurt, on the inside where they are so much _bigger_.

"I was trying to taking care of him, because he wouldn't take care of himself. You can't even begin to fathom how much I love him. Or at least, that's the word you use, but how can such a tiny word possibly describe the way I feel? I may not be perfect, I've hurt him, I know I have. But can you look me in the eye and honestly tell me that you are happy in this life?"

He opened his mouth to say yes, to say that he was very happy and that he had a good life. But the lie wouldn't come. For so long he'd told himself that he was content and satisfied with his life, but was that really the truth? He couldn't meet her eyes.

Instead, he asked, "You must want something from me, otherwise you wouldn't have forced those memories on me. You want me to somehow change this universe back into the other one, the one you prefer, so you can have your Doctor back, even though doing so would kill me. But I am curious as to how you would have me go about this. It's not like I can just flip a switch and have everything recreated as they were in the memories. What was your plan?"

"There was no plan. I gave you back your true memories in the hope that you would use them to figure out what to do, because I have no idea how to fix this. I don't know how this will all turn out, because this is my last night with you unless you can fix it. But even if you can't, really I just wanted you to have those memories so that you could be the man you were meant to be. I wanted to give you your friends back so you could be happy. I wanted you to save the universe like I've seen you do so many times. I just want you to be okay, Doctor, is what I'm trying to say.

She turned away from him and added softly, "It's good that you have such a wonderful Tardis as this. She will never let you down and always take you where you want to go. My sister will never bring you any lost souls to put up with, you can be as alone as you want. She will always be loyal to her _master_. I won't bother you again."

"Wait!" he said as he reached out his hand for her.

"Goodbye, my Thief," she said.

As soon as the words had left her mouth, her entire body dissipated into shining gold particles in the air.

"No! Come back!" he yelled as he grasped the air in the place she had been standing. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

"What are you shouting about in here?" asked Martha as she stuck her head in the doorway.

"Leave me," he choked out, and to his immense relief, she did. But at the same time, he wished she would stay with him. For once, he didn't want to be alone.

He sat down on the edge of his bed and put his head in his hands, and wept.

* * *

He spent hours lying in bed, not to rest or relax, but to remember. He needed to find the key to solving all this, and he knew it was tucked inside his head somewhere.

He hated himself for what he had done to her, for what he had said to her. The truth was, he envied that other man for what he'd had. His Tardis might have been stubborn at times, but had been a constant companion. His own behaved just as it should, but felt more like a machine than a living being.

He wished he could take back those awful words, especially the ones in which he insinuated that he had been his Tardis' master. A Tardis had no master, only a humble guide. The ghostly lady had loved her dear Doctor so much; not in a romantic way, but in a way much deeper than that. A love so strong not even the universe could touch it.

His own Tardis didn't love him like the ghost had loved her Doctor; she was loyal, dependable, and would never stray from his chosen course. But he would never have a relationship with her like that. After all, how could a Tardis love a man like him? A man who hated to travel and lacked curiosity. A selfish, cowardly man who could watch worlds perish and not care enough to save them. No, a Tardis could never love a man like that.

He also regretted referring to his friends as pets. He had tried so hard to deny it, but he couldn't anymore. He cared about them, and wanted them to stay with him. But he knew they would never care for him as they had for that other man, and he deserved it.

Oh, how he longed for death as the full weight of his loneliness came crashing down on him. How he longed for the love that other man had, how he wished he could have another chance to make things right, but he couldn't see how it was possible. But most of all, he wished that his companions and the ghostly lady could forgive him, and that they could love him like they had before in the final days of the universe. But he knew he could never have those things, and refused to even hope for them.

He didn't know what time it was when it happened, but at one point as he wallowed in his sorrow and despair, he heard a knock at the door. That was a first; no one had ever come to visit him before.

He rushed to dress himself and clean up and make himself presentable, and then went to the door, passing Rory on the way carrying a tray of food, most likely for Amy. When he opened it, he saw a young man before him, sweaty and panting, panic written all over his face.

"You're the Doctor, right?"

"I am."

"You've got to help us! They took them, made them like them, all gone-"

"Slow down boy, you're not making any sense. Take a deep breath and then try again."

The boy sucked in a deep breath and then said, "We were going to release the inmates from the Cybermen's farm at the hospital. We had planned for everything, but a few days ago someone broke out three of them and so the Cybermen were on high alert. They caught and assimilated everyone but me, I just barely managed to escape. Before she was upgraded, our leader told me to come to you and beg you for help."

This couldn't be happening. There must be some mistake. Even though he already knew the answer, with a knot of dread in his stomach, hesitantly he asked, "What was her name?"

"Sarah Jane Smith, sir."

He couldn't breathe. He took a step back and pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers in an attempt to maintain his composure. It felt as if the world had stopped spinning underneath his feet.

Sarah Jane. His Sarah Jane. Trapped in a body of metal, her emotions stolen from her and destroyed.

"It's my fault," he whispered. "She pleaded with me to come and help her, and I refused her every time. If I'd gone with her, if only I'd listened and helped her, she'd still be human. Oh God, why didn't I help her?"

He turned back to the boy, who was watching him grimly.

"Get inside," he said as he pointed inside. "You'll be safe here. It's the only safe place left."

The boy nodded and walked inside. His eyes went wide and he said, "Your house is a space ship?"

"No, my ship is pretending to be a house," he said absently.

The boy walked around the Tardis, marveling at everything she saw with his mouth hanging open. "This is amazing."

He opened his mouth to reply, but stopped when he saw a flash of white behind a bush across the street. He looked closer and saw that it was the same girl he'd been spotting everywhere.

That was when it hit him. She was the key, the missing link to solving this. She was in his memories. She was his last memory. All of this was tied to her, she held the answers he longed for.

She turned away from him and darted off down the street, and he took off after her, not even bothering to shut the Tardis door.

"Little girl, wait! Come back! I must speak with you!"

Running, if you could call what he was doing running, was a real chore. It was taking all he had to keep from giving up, but the thought of all the damage he'd done to the ones he'd loved kept him going.

Suddenly, the earth trembled beneath him, knocking him to the ground. It only lasted a few seconds and wasn't very powerful, but he knew it was only the beginning of what was to come.

He got back on his feet and kept chasing after the girl, but she was gone. He pulled at his hair in frustration and shouted, "Please, I need to speak with you! Please come back! Where are you?"

"I am right here," said a small voice from behind him.

He spun around and saw the little girl standing behind him. Her face was pointed up towards him, as though she were looking at him and could see him.

"Why did you run?" he panted, trying to catch his breath but having a difficult time of doing so.

"To see if you would follow," she replied. "What is it you want? I already granted your wish."

"What wish? I didn't wish for anything."

"Maybe not with your mouth, but I heard your soul. It cried out and I listened."

"Who are you?" he asked. "What are you?"

"I have lived ever since the dawn of creation. This form you see before you is not real; it is a shape most people find comforting. I do not see as others do, instead I see people's souls. I was given great power to help people in this universe with good, kind hearts. Unfortunately there are not many, but every now and again I run across one who is worthy of my gift. You called me a genie, but I am so much more complicated than that."

"What makes you think I have a good and kind heart?"

"You do not believe you are worthy of my gift, but I see who you really are. Yes, you have made many mistakes and caused great pain, but the life and joy and peace you have brought outweighs it."

"What was my wish?"

"You wished that you had never stolen your Tardis. You wished that you had a simple life, one without adventure. You wished that you had never met the people you came to love so dearly. You wished all of that so that you would not have to carry such a heavy burden, so that you could be at peace and not suffer in misery anymore. It was not easy, but I managed to grant your wish."

"How did you grant it?" he asked, not sure he wanted the answer.

"I first tore apart the universe we used to live in. Compared to everything else it was the easiest part."

"And then you rewrote it the way you wanted it?" he asked, a bit frightened at the thought that this child (or whatever she was) could change the entire universe any way she wanted to suit her fancy. He'd never heard of such a thing before. But if there was one thing he'd learned from all those new memories, it was that there was always something new to learn.

"No. As surprising as it may seem to you, I did not do any of this. All of this came to be because of one difference: you. I rewrote everything about you."

"What are you talking about? You changed me? I don't understand."

"I could have restarted the universe and given you a second chance to make different choices, but that wasn't enough, because you would not have changed anything the way you used to be. I had to alter who you are inside so that you would not make the same mistakes again."

"How did you change me?" he asked quietly, appalled.

"For the most part you are still the same person as before, with some key differences. I took away your curiosity and lust of adventure so that you would not leave your home unless forced. You have no wish to see the universe and all it holds, and so you are protected from its cruelty.

"I took away your courage and selflessness so that you would not throw yourself into dangerous situations for the sake of others. The man you once were threw caution to the wind with no regard for his own wellbeing. You are safe because you value your life.

"I also made you a bit thick. Not by much, but enough so that you could not step in and save the day even if you tried, and also so that you'd be more accepting of this life. Ignorance is bliss, or so I have heard."

"The biggest change, however, was the last. I took your compassion and mercy, your capacity to love unconditionally and irrevocably. The man you were before loved too much. He could never learn his lesson, and so he kept giving his hearts away only to have them destroyed before his very eyes again and again. You have felt some heartache in this life, but it is nothing compared to the devastating agony you suffered before."

"What have you done?" he gasped, horrified and sickened.

"What do you mean?" she asked, tilting her head to one side in confusion.

"You stripped me of everything that made me the man I was supposed to be! You made me into a monster!"

"All those things tormented you, and I took them away!" she shouted at him. "I gave you happiness! You should be grateful, I gave you a wonderful life!"

"You put me in a little bubble. I thought I was happy, I thought I was content and satisfied, but the memories my Tardis gave me have shown me that what I was doing wasn't living. I was surviving; thinking only of myself while everyone else around me suffered. I wasn't happy; the only time I was ever happy was with my family, and with my companions. The Tardis, _my_ Tardis, gave me back the parts of myself that you took away."

"Curse her. If your Tardis had not intervened, you never would have known another life existed, and you could have been happy."

"No, she saved me. I'm a waste of skin, an insult to my species. She reminded me of who I really am. The universe is dying because of what you've done. Does that not matter to you?"

"Everything has its time. Just as flowers must lose their beauty and wilt, so must this universe. You said it yourself, everything and everyone dies," said the girl flippantly.

"I don't want this. I don't want you to let everyone die for my sake," said the Doctor with tears in his eyes. "I don't want this wish, I want everything to go back to the way it was. I want the people I love to be safe and happy, not slaves and fugitives. They hate me, and I deserve it. I just want them to have their lives back."

Anger filled the girl's face; there was no wind, but her hair blew around her face and looked like white fire. Her entire body glowed; no longer did she look like a child. She looked like a fallen angel, a mix of light and darkness, heaven and hell.

"You tiny creatures are all the same. I choose you and give you a blessing, but each and every one of you have begged me to take it away. I give you what you want most and you despise it, you ungrateful children! Well I have had it. I will not take away your wish, you and the rest of this cursed universe will be consumed in a matter of days, a week if you are lucky. It will all be over and then you will not have to worry about your stupid wish anymore."

"But you'll die too, won't you?" he asked hoping that she might not go through with it in the interest of self-preservation.

"Of course I will, do you think I did not know that? But it does not matter. What is the point of living if everyone hates you for the one thing you were created to do?"

"Please don't do this," said the Doctor, resorting to pleading. "Undo all this, and I promise I'll help you. I can see that you're not a bad person, you just want to help people. But you don't know how to go about it. You want to help people so that they'll love you, but your wishes don't work out and they reject you. You started out so innocent, but after so many millennia of wishes gone wrong, you've become cynical. You've forgotten why you began granting wishes in the first place. You'll do whatever it takes to make a wish turn out right, but you've only made things worse. You're sad and lonely, just like me. We can help each other, but only if you set things right. This is all so wrong, I can't fix this, only you can. Please, for their sakes, free me from this wish."

For one brief moment, she looked like she might give in. Uncertainty flashed over her features and he felt his hope rise. But then it was crushed when she opened her mouth and said, "You cannot help me, you cannot even help yourself, or the people you treasure. You think I am good, but how can I be when my wishes only make people despise me? This is the only wish I have granted that will turn out right. You should be thanking me, I gave you what you wanted: a life of peace, free of pain."

He opened his mouth to reply, but she interrupted him by saying, "By the way, there is a disturbance at your Tardis. I would recommend staying far away from there for a few hours or so."

He ignored her and took off back in the direction he had come. He heard her yell as he did, "You should just let them go, they will only bring you pain! They are all going to die anyway!"

This old body was slowing him down; for once regeneration didn't seem like such a bad thing. And how much worse could a new body be? It couldn't be any slower or more fragile than this one had become, and maybe he could deal with being ugly. Or maybe he'd luck out and get a handsome face. That would be nice.

He shook his head to clear his thoughts. He had to get back to the Tardis and he couldn't let anything distract him. He probably should have asked the girl what the "disturbance" was so he could form some kind of plan, but it wasn't like she would have told him anyway. She wanted him to stay away and to not get involved, but that was something he just couldn't do anymore.

When he reached the Tardis, he felt his hearts plummet with fear and dread when he saw that the door was still wide open. He had left it open and unlocked, how could he have been so stupid?

He ran inside and had to grasp the sides for support when he saw the scene before him. The boy who had come to him lay dead at his feet. Wilf was lying not far away, by the console.

He ran as fast as he could to Amelia's room, afraid of what he would find. He found her lying in her bed sobbing and wailing. Despite all that was going on, he couldn't help but be relieved to see that she was still alive.

"Amelia, are you all right?" he asked her as he approached the bed. He had to sidestep Rory, whose body rested by the bed, his eyes open in frozen terror.

"How can you ask me that?" she screamed at him. "They found us! They followed that boy here and they found us!"

"Who found you?"

"The Cybermen!" she cried hysterically. "They came in and they killed everyone except Donna, Martha, and Melody. They got called back, otherwise I'd be dead too."

She paused for a moment, and then continued, "Rory came in here and told me what was happening, said he'd protect me. He didn't stand a chance against them, why'd he do that?"

"Because a love like yours can't ever be erased, not completely," said the Doctor, the realization coming to him as he spoke it.

"What are you talking about, I never loved him," she said, as though he'd said something disgusting.

"I know," he said sadly.

"They took my baby," said Amy as she wrapped her arms around her knees and rocked back and forth. "You said we'd be safe here, you made me believe that she had a future, that she could be free, but they got her. They stole her and she can't be saved this time. I'll never see my baby again. Why did you lie to me?"

"I didn't lie, this really is the safest place for you. It just wasn't safe enough," he said as he hung his head in shame.

"I hate you," she said venomously as fresh tears rolled down her cheeks. "You should have been here, you could have done something! You gave me hope and then you let them destroy it. You should have just let me die back at that farm."

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I know it will never be enough, but I am so sorry."

Her anger melted and Amy was left only with the crushing grief of the loss of her little girl. She buried her face in her shaking hands and said, "Leave me alone. Please, just go away."

The Doctor nodded solemnly even though she couldn't see it. As he turned to leave, however, he was met with an unexpected face.

Rose looked up at him curiously, like a child might, even though she no longer had eyes to see him with. She didn't speak, and he wondered how she had gotten out of her room, but he couldn't bring himself to care about any of that at the moment. There had been so much death in just one day, and seeing Rose helped to soothe the pain just a bit.

She surprised him by extending her arms toward him as if to hug him. He couldn't read her expression and didn't know what she wanted. He couldn't tell what was going on in her damaged mind, but he didn't stop her when she wrapped her arms around his chest in an embrace.

He gently put his arms around her and savored the feeling of her touch. How had he gone so long all alone, without anyone to be there by his side when he needed it? He felt his eyes sting with tears, because for the first time in too many years to count, he wasn't lonely anymore. For that brief moment he allowed himself to be comforted by her warmth, and allowed himself to hope that maybe, insane or not, she had forgiven him.

"Doctor, look out! She's got a-"

Before Amy could finish, Rose pulled out a knife she had hidden in her pocket and stabbed the Doctor in the back, right through his left heart. She held onto him as he bled and whispered in his ear, "Time for the Doctor to go sleep now. Sleep with the angel, my dead friend."

She began giggling hysterically and let him drop to the floor. The pain was so great he couldn't cry out, could hardly breathe.

Above him, Amy had left her bed and thrown herself at Rose. The two women struggled against each other, pulling at each other's hair and hitting and kicking, and in Rose's case, biting. It didn't matter that Rose didn't have sight on her side; her unbridled madness more than made up for it. However, Amy had just lost her child, she had nothing left to lose, and so she fought back with everything in her. Neither one was holding back or pulling punches, and the Doctor knew that it wouldn't end until one of them was dead.

Amy knocked her down to the floor, but Rose wrapped her hands around her throat as she had done to him. Amy struggled and tried to pry Rose's fingers off her throat, but it was no use. She was lying very close to the Doctor, and in her desperation yanked the knife out of his back, causing him to let loose a ragged scream as a shock of blinding pain surged through him like electricity.

Amy got a good grip on the bloody knife, and as she was losing consciousness, plunged the knife into Rose's chest. Amazingly, Rose was still able to maintain her grip on Amy, ignoring the knife as if it wasn't even there. Amy couldn't fight any longer and went limp, her face and lips blue.

Even if she didn't notice the knife in her heart, she couldn't survive the wound. Rose tried to stand but instead fell flat on her face next to Rory, driving the knife even deeper into her chest until the tip was visible out her back. She died without a sound, as though she had died in her sleep.

The Doctor was left alone, surrounded by the bodies of the ones he'd so cherished. He'd failed them, he'd let them die. It didn't matter that they would have all died in a few days' time anyway, they were his and they hadn't deserved to die.

But neither did anyone else in the universe, he finally realized. These people were special, but everyone else in the universe was important, as well. Not only had he let his friends down, he'd let down all the people who were going to die in the Ultimate Sanction. This was what his Tardis had been trying to make him see, that there were people out there who needed him. Yes, maybe he had caused great pain and death and chaos, but he'd also saved countless lives. In his mind, the lives he saved could never outweigh all the suffering he'd caused, but he had to try, all the same.

He brought a hand to his face and saw it being engulfed in a golden light. His regeneration had finally begun, he couldn't put it off any longer. Or could he?

He had no reason to regenerate. Regeneration would give him extra time in the world, but it would be time spent alone in misery. All his companions were either dead or enslaved, and if they were still alive they'd be dead soon enough anyway. The little girl refused to take back his wish, and he couldn't bear to watch the universe end in fire, time being shredded up and reality itself disappearing. He couldn't bear to hear the screams of all the people he could have saved, should have saved, as they all ceased to exist.

Death was the only way out. If there was another option, he couldn't see it. And so he concentrated all his strength on controlling the regeneration and keeping it at bay. The horrible pain of the knife became unendurable as his body fought to save itself, but he forced it back, letting the pain burn through his veins but not conquer him. The golden light disappeared from his hand but remained in his fingertips, ready to rush upon him and force him to survive if he let his concentration slip for even a second.

"What are you doing?" said a voice that was both soft and terrible at the same time. He looked up and saw the little girl standing over him. "You must regenerate!"

"No," was all he said.

"You have to live, you cannot die, not yet! You have to see the end of the universe."

"That's exactly why I'm not regenerating," he replied, every syllable requiring great effort.

Her eyes glowed like white hot coals. "This is your wish! This is not how it is supposed to be!"

"Guess my wish just won't work out right after all." Not much longer now, he just had to hold out a little longer and he'd be free.

"Regenerate, you fool!" she screamed at him. She lost her childish form completely and became a monster before his very eyes. He'd never seen anything like her, he had no words to describe her appearance. She was like light and darkness, beautiful and terrible at the same time.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

After what felt like an eternity, he felt himself drifting away, as if to sleep. The pain faded away like mist, and he no longer had to fight to keep from regenerating. At long last, as the beast without a name and the world drifted away, for the first time in his life, he finally was at peace.


	8. Dorothy

Death wasn't at all how the Doctor had imagined it would be.

It felt more like the gray area between sleeping and waking, and not nearly as peaceful and serene as it was made out to be. He couldn't help thinking that it was very overrated.

He couldn't tell how much time had passed, which was a change for him. Normally he'd be counting the seconds in his head, almost without even realizing it. But he wasn't even sure there was such a thing as time where he was.

It took a very long while, but eventually the Doctor became aware of his body, or to be more specific, that he had a body. He wiggled his fingers and breathed through his nose. He wondered if this was death; an eternity in the No Man's Land between sleeping and waking when you finally begin to realize that all those silly, ridiculous dreams you were having were just that: dreams. Or perhaps he had regenerated after all, and he was still lying beside the corpses of his friends. He really hoped it wasn't the latter.

As he lay there, his mind buzzing with confused thoughts, he noticed how warm it was here. It was much warmer than it had ever been in London, it was warmer than the Serengeti. For one horrifying moment he thought he must have ended up in Hell after all. He supposed he did deserve it, but that didn't mean he wanted to spend eternity in the Lake of Fire. But then it occurred to him that he wasn't burning, and that the intense heat was familiar, welcome even. He hadn't felt this kind of warmth in ages, and it could only mean one thing. But it couldn't be, it was impossible.

Slowly, ever so slowly, his eyelids fluttered open. He looked and saw before him a familiar burnt orange sky. He sat up and noticed that he was sitting on red grass. He ran his fingers over it in disbelief, as though it might disappear in a puff of smoke at his touch.

He saw in the distance great and mighty mountains. With wonder he watched as the sun rose in the south and the snow-capped mountains shone. In the light, silver-leafed trees looked like a forest on fire.

As he beheld the majesty of the land, he felt tears roll down his face while on the inside he was falling apart and singing at the same time. This was a place he thought he'd never see again, he could hardly take it all in.

Gallifrey, restored to its former glory. The last time he'd seen this planet it was burning; all its radiance made ugly in the wake of the flames. But looking at it, it was just as it had been when he was a boy, untouched by death and disaster. It was as if there had never been a war. It was more beautiful than he remembered.

He was home, home at last.

"How can this be?" he wondered aloud.

Unable to resist, he stood up and broke into a run. He was still in his old, first body, but he didn't ache anymore; he wasn't tired or feeble at all. He was as light as a feather, free at last.

At first he didn't have a goal in mind; his joy and wonder and excitement were so great he had to unleash it, because it felt like he might burst if he didn't. For the first time in a long time, he heard himself laughing, really laughing. He felt like a giddy schoolboy as the wind whipped past his face and blew his hair back. The red grass blazed like fire as he ran through it.

But then it occurred to him that maybe his family was here. Maybe he could see his mother and father, his wife, his children and grandchildren, his old friends again. But he had to find them first.

Now that he had a goal in mind, he ran even faster than before. He had to find his house, the house he had grown up in, on the side of Mount Cadon. His hearts pounded in his chest at the thought of seeing the ones he loved again, the family he'd lost so long ago.

A journey that should have taken the Doctor at least a day only lasted a few minutes. In his excitement, the Doctor didn't notice how strange this was, or perhaps he didn't care. He gazed up at the old house, taking it all in, before he threw open the door.

"Mother! Father!" he shouted in his native tongue of Old High Gallifreyan. "It's me, your son! I've come home!"

But the house was empty. Not a soul was inside. The Doctor wandered throughout the house, looking for someone, anyone. But he found no one.

The house was exactly as he remembered leaving it, it hadn't changed at all. He noticed that there was no dust on any of the furniture. Not because someone had been keeping it clean, but because there was literally nothing alive inside his home.

He went back outside, and from the mountaintop he could see the Citadel, encased in the giant glass dome. But even from this distance, he could see that there was no life there, either. He felt a crushing weight on his chest. He sat down on the crimson grass, not knowing what to do, what to think. He didn't understand, what was going on? Was this place supposed to be Heaven? Or Hell?

"What is this place?" he whispered to himself.

"Do you like it?" he heard a voice say.

He turned his head and saw the girl sitting next to him, no longer a monster. Her unseeing eyes staring straight ahead and not at him, she plucked blades of grass and pulled them apart with her fingers.

"You did this?" he asked. "Is it real?"

"No, it is not. It is all in your mind. I wanted to bring you somewhere you would find comfort."

"Oh, I see. Thank you," he said, and he meant it.

"I can hear the tears in your voice. I gave you back your home, why do you cry?"

He hadn't realized he'd started crying, again. He reached up with a finger and wiped a tear from his cheek.

"I thought I was home again. I thought I could be with my family again. But it's not real. They're not here."

"Are you angry with me?"

"No. Even if it's not real, it's as close as I'll ever get to home. You've given me a chance to see the stars shine on my planet one last time, and I thank you for that."

"I am not sure why I even bother, though. You do not really seem to appreciate anything that I do."

"It's not that at all, I do appreciate what you gave me, I just said so."

"I granted you a wish, I gave you what you wanted, and you completely rejected it. You let yourself die just to escape it. That does not exactly scream gratitude."

"I don't think we're meant to have what we want," he mused. "We're all very selfish beings at heart, and so what we want usually isn't what we need. The happiest people are the ones that that still want things, but learn to be grateful with what they have. It's not settling, it's choosing to find happiness in what were given. That's why your wishes make people unhappy, because they don't realize that until they finally have what they want. It's a lesson that only a scarce few ever learn."

"Does that make me evil, then?"

"Of course not. Anyone can see that your heart's in the right place, all you want is to make people happy, you just don't know how."

"Then what good am I? It would be better if I had never existed."

"Don't say that! Don't ever say that. Every life has purpose and worth, it's just harder to see in some than others. You can do great things for the people of this universe, you just have to find the right way. Even though I didn't like your wish, it did teach me a powerful lesson that I won't ever forget, no matter how hard I may try. You can use your powers, but more conservatively, if you know what I mean. You just have to find your own path, your place in the universe, where people love you."

"You really think such a place exists? Because I have trouble believing it. There are some things that even I cannot do."

"Nothing worth doing is ever easy, and happiness wouldn't be so wonderful if it wasn't so hard to find. But the people who do find it are the best people in the universe."

"Have you ever found such a place, Doctor?"

The Doctor smiled and said, "I think you showed me the way to it. I've been feeling sorry for myself because I could never hold onto the people I loved. But when you took it all away, it was a big wake up call, like a slap to the face, to put it bluntly. I have the biggest family in the universe, and even though they can't stay with me forever, they'll always have a place in my hearts. That's why I have two of them, so that I'll always have room for one more soul to love.

"For so long I couldn't look back on those memories without feeling great sorrow and pain and loneliness, but now it isn't so painful anymore. It still hurts, I do miss them so much, but for the first time I can look back and feel great joy for the time I was given, instead of regret for the time I was not. My place is the entire universe. Who knows where you'll find yours."

The little girl still looked doubtful, and so the Doctor continued, "You know, I still don't have anything to call you. I can't keep calling you 'little girl,' it's very demeaning. You need a name. Do you have a preference?"

The girl shook her head no, and so the Doctor pondered this for a few minutes. Then it came to him, "I know what your name should be! You're looking for your special place in the universe. You're looking for your very own home. You're looking for Kansas, you're looking for that place over the rainbow. You should be called Dorothy!"

The girl's eyebrows turned up in confusion. "What is a rainbow? What is so special in a piece of land on earth? And what does the name Dorothy have to do with either of those things? At least make an attempt to speak sensibly, Doctor."

"I was making a metaphor. Oh come on, don't tell me you've never heard the story of _The Wizard of Oz_! It's a children's story, and one of the best I've ever read. It's about a girl who goes on a long journey to find her way home again, to the people who love her. Along the way, she meets several strange new friends. I think you could identify with that part the most. I may already have a brain and a bit of courage, and I'm not lacking in hearts, but I'd say I'm stranger than the Scarecrow, the Tin Man, and the Cowardly Lion combined," chuckled the Doctor.

The girl shook her head in exasperation. "I am a being older than time itself and you expect me to know children's stories?"

"Your current form is a bit misleading. Tell you what, I'll tell you the story myself one day, of how Dorothy went on a great adventure just to get back home. In the meantime, is Dorothy okay?"

"Dorothy. Dorothy, Dorothy, Dorothy," said the girl, playing with the sound of it in her mouth. "I do not see the point of labeling things with names. One word cannot ever accurately describe everything inside a person, the effort to try is silly and pointless. But if you insist, I suppose Dorothy is as good a name as any other."

The Doctor grinned and said, "Now you have an identity, don't you see? You're not just some nameless entity that can't be known anymore, you're a person that can be loved and cherished. That's why names are so important; a person isn't his or her name, the name becomes the person."

The Doctor paused for a while, then said, "By the way, I've been meaning to ask, am I dead?"

"What makes you think you are dead?" asked Dorothy.

"Oh nothing, really. It's just that the last time I saw you I was dying. That, and the fact that this place feels a lot like I imagine heaven would be like. That is, if I'm ever allowed in."

"No, you are not dead. I stopped everything and brought back the old universe, the one you are so fond of. I told you, this is all in your mind. Once you wake up, you will be the man you were before."

"I already am him." He knew it was true even as he spoke it.

"I could bring them back, you know," Dorothy said suddenly.

"Bring who back?"

"Your family and friends, all of them. I could give them back to you, if you want."

It took the Doctor a long time before he trusted himself enough to speak. "No, don't give me that choice. I want them back, I want each and every one of them back more than you or anyone could ever possibly imagine, but that wouldn't be fair to them. They have lives, people they love. And it would be wrong to drag the ones who died back to the living world just so they could die again later; they are at peace and wouldn't want to come back. It would be incredibly selfish of me to take that away for my own happiness. I'll always treasure the time they had with me in my hearts and I can let them go. But please don't offer it to me again, because I don't think I could refuse a second time. My will is strong, but not that strong."

Dorothy nodded. "I am so old, and yet I have so much to learn."

"Join the club," he replied.

"If we are to part Doctor," said Dorothy tentatively. "Would you mind if I came to visit you someday? If I ever find this place over the rainbow, as you call it, I want to tell you about it."

The Doctor's sad expression brightened as he said, "I would love nothing better."

Just then, a wind blew through the Doctor and Dorothy's hair, and the world around them began to fade away, like mist.

"It's time for you to wake up now, Doctor. Time to get back to saving the universe," said Dorothy.

"One more thing though. Why were you so intent on granting me a wish? And why did you save me from dying even though you were all ready to let me die?"

"Because you have my respect, Doctor. I've seen what you've done, from the beginning of time to the very end. Not literally, of course, but I've seen the hearts of the people you've touched. You made them better; you never cared who or what they were, you were willing to help anyone and everyone who needed you. You were the only Time Lord who ever felt the need to make a difference in someone's life, the only one to see value in the people he met. And in doing so, you planted seeds of good in their hearts that blossomed into things of beauty and wonder. The stars themselves sing your song in the heavens. I wanted to be like that, to have that effect on people. I wanted to make people happy, to make people better. To put it simply, Doctor, you inspired me to be like you."

She looked up at him with a small, genuine smile. The Doctor smiled in return as he put his hand on hers. At first she jerked away, and the Doctor remembered that she had never been accepted like this before, so she wasn't used to a kind and gentle touch. Not giving up, he reached out his hand and touched it to the one she'd pulled away, and this time she put her tiny hand in his old, wrinkled one.

He watched as the world melted away, like ice. It was much less hectic and violent than the last time he'd witnessed it. It was like the moon going down and being replaced by the brilliant sun.

He couldn't deny the feelings of fear within him, for he was about to return to his old life, his true life, full of pain and difficulty and loneliness. But he was prepared for whatever awaited him, and was excited for what was to come. He couldn't wait to see where his Tardis would take him next.

He barely registered his eyes closing, hardly noticed himself falling asleep, if it was sleep. As he lost himself to the soothing darkness surrounding him, he heard Dorothy say, "Thank you, Doctor."

"Goodbye, Dorothy."

* * *

"Oi! Wake up! Come on, are you dead or what?"

The Doctor felt a light slap to his cheek. His eyes shot open, and the first thing he saw was a very familiar face looking down at him with concern in her eyes.

"Not quite dead yet, sorry to burst your bubble, Clara," replied the Doctor as he sat up.

Clara was on her knees beside him. Not quite sure of the social customs of the time he was in, he decided to play it safe by kissing both her cheeks. Startled and taken off guard, her eyebrows knit in confusion as she put a hand to her cheek.

The Doctor took in his surroundings. He was sitting in the snow on the sidewalk outside the church, the sun just beginning to rise in the distance.

Dorothy had taken everything from him, and she'd put it all back together again and given it back to him as if nothing had changed. Except for the fact that everything had changed, at least for the Doctor. She had even brought him back to the very next morning, how thoughtful of her.

_Very Christmas Carol-y_, he thought to himself. He absently wondered if it was Christmas, as it would be very fitting. He looked down at his hands; they were soft and smooth, no longer gnarled and wrinkled.

"Why did you call me that?" she asked in bewilderment.

The Doctor quickly amended his slip-up by replying, "You look like a Clara. Am I wrong?"

"No, actually. What's your problem anyway? You plowed me over last night, ran away like you'd seen a ghost, and then I find you lying in the snow. I was this close to calling the police."

"Sorry I scared you, I laid down to make a snow angel last night and forgot to get up."

"Uh huh," said Clara, looking unconvinced. "You're drunk, aren't you?"

"Would you believe me if I told you I'm not drunk, that I'm always like this?"

"Whatever you say, Chin-boy."

"Actually, it's Doctor, not Chin-boy," he corrected her.

"Doctor? Doctor how?"

"Well, that's another first," he said to himself with a small grin.

It finally hit him how lucky he was to be alive, even more so to have his old life back, and most importantly, his old ship back.

He suddenly remembered Sexy, and all the mean things he'd said to her. He wondered if she remembered Dorothy's wish, and realized that he would have to apologize double. It was a good thing that for once, he wouldn't mind admitting that he was wrong. "Oh my, I really must get going. Good day, Clara."

He bolted off and she followed him. He ran back to where the Tardis had dumped him, crossing his fingers and hoping she hadn't left him stranded. It wouldn't be the first time (although of course she always came back). He let out an elated sound of joy when he saw that she was still there, waiting for him.

"Oh, Sexy!" he said as he threw his arms around the old police box and hugged and kissed her. "I'm sorry, so so so sorry for all those nasty things I said. It won't ever happen again, I promise. I'm a stupid old git and I don't think I've ever thanked you for putting up with me for so long. If you had any sense you'd leave me here in the snow for good. Please don't ever do that, I'd go crazy if I had to stay on one planet for the rest of my life.

"But you won't believe what I've been up to all night! Actually you probably will, I'll bet nothing surprises you anymore. How can I make it up to you? How about we go on an adventure, we'll go anywhere you want. Oh, Old Girl, I missed you so much."

Clara stood behind him, gaping at him. What was wrong with this man? After all the weird things he'd done, and now he was kissing a phone box and crooning to it like it was his lover. She should get far away from this lunatic, get away and call the police and have them haul him away to the whacky shack. But she was too curious to do the sensible thing, and so she stayed where she was.

She nearly fell over when the door suddenly opened without him touching it. The Doctor smiled as he felt a warm breeze caress his face from inside his beloved ship, her way of returning his hug and saying, _All his forgiven, my beautiful idiot._

He was about to step inside when he heard Clara cry out. "Doctor!"

He spun around and saw before them three of the Silence, one of which was probably the one that had attacked Dorothy in the church the night before.

Feeling that old familiar rush of excitement and adventure surging through his veins that he'd missed so much, with a mad, beaming grin on his face, he grabbed Clara's hand and whispered in her ear, "Run!"

_~The End~_


End file.
